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tm  HISTORIC  NOVEIA 


JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE. 


JL^SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S 

2,-MOHUN. 

$.^mhT  TO  HILT. 

i,— OUT  OF  THE  FOAM. 

a-HAMMER  AND  RAFIXR. 

^—FAIRFAX. 

V-BEATRICE  HALLAM, 

a-CAPTAIN  RALPH. 

a-ROBERT  E.  LEE. 

10.  —STONEWALL  JACKSON. 

11.  -MISS  BONNYBELL. 

12.  — LEATHER  AND  SILK. 

13.  — COL.  ROSS  OF  PIEDMONT. 
U.-HER  MAJESTY  THE  QUEEN. 

The  thrilling  historic  stories  of  John  Esten  Cooke 
may  be  classed  among  the  best  and  most  popular  of 
all  American  writers.  The  great  contest  between  the 
States  was  the  theme  he  chose  for  his  Historic  Ro- 
mances. Following  \intil  the  close  of  the  war  the  for- 
tunes of  Stuart,  Ashby,  Jackson  and  Lee,  he  returned 
to  Eagle's  Nest,*'  his  old  home,  where,  in  the  quiet 
of  peace,  he  wrote  volume  after  volume,  intense  in 
dramatic  interest.  There  is  not  a  dull  line  in  any  vol- 
ume of  his  writings.  His  books  should  be  in  every 
old  Confederate  soldier's  library,  and  should  bo  reaa 
by  every  Southern  boy. 


Cloth  bound,  per  volume,  $1.50l 
Paper  covers,     **      50  cents. 


G.       Dillingham  G)*,  PublisherSt 


NEW  YORKa 


LORD  FAIRFAX ; 


OR, 

THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  COURT. 


BY 

JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE, 

AUTHOR  OF 

Surry  OF  Eagle's  Nest,"  "  Hilt  to  Hilt,"  ''^  Hammer 
AND  Rapier/'  Etc.,  Etc. 

NEW  YORK: 
G.  Wl    Dillingham    Co.,  Publishers, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1868,  by 

G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO. 

Ih  the  clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southem 
District  of  New  York. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1896,  by 
R.  POWEL  PAGE, 
Administrator,  Estate  of  John  Esten  Cooke. 


Fairfax. 


FAIRFAX; 

THE  MASTER  OF  GREEWAT  COURT. 


L 

THBEE  OAYAUEBS* 

iftfl^^^N  an  evening  of  October,  in  the  year  1748,  th* 
n  j^^MV  slopes  of  the  Blue  Kidge  at  Ashby's  Gap  were  all 
ClwIWj^  ablaze  with  the  red  light  of  the  sinking  sun. 

At  this  hour  of  houxs,  in  the  month  of  months, 
two  horsemen  coming  from  the  east,  ascended  the  steep 
road  above  the  present  village  of  Paris,  and  ere  long  reached 
the  summit  of  the  mountain. 

"What  they  saw  before  them,  looking  westward  from  thai 
point,  was  worthy  of  attention  from  the  most  indifferent. 
Through  the  foliage-embowered  waUs  of  the  mountain  pasa^ 
the  eye  embraced  a  wondrous  spectacle. 

Southward,  the  ramparts  of  the  great  Blue  Ridge  rolled 
away  like  waves  of  the  ocean,  disappearing  in  a  delicate 
mist.  Beyond  the  Shenandoah  stretched  a  limitless  prairie, 
starred  with  brilliant  flowers,  which  the  faU  winds  gently 
agitated,  making  the  expanse  resemble  a  vast  lake,  whose 
waves  were  of  every  color  of  the  rainbow.  In  the  dim  dis- 
tance, on  the  far  horizon,  rose  the  azure  battlements  of  the 
Qreat  North  Mountain  :  and  in  front,  the  Massinuttoii 


1      f  04 


10 


FAIRFAX  ;  OR, 


soared  aloft — its  huge  blue  outline  standing  out,  clear  cut, 
against  the  crimson  curtain  of  the  sunset. 

Never  did  artist,  in  his  dreams  of  supernal  glory,  imagine 
anything  more  lovely  than  this  landscape.  The  richest  col- 
el's  seemed  exhausted  to  make  up  the  picture.  Forest  and 
pPvairie,  river  and  mountain,  shone  in  blue  and  gold  and 
CI  imson  : — the  rosy  mist  of  autumn  drooped  above  the  land- 
scape like  a  dream  : — the  enchanting  Valley  of  the  Shenan- 
doah lay  before  the  eyes  of  the  travellers  like  some  land  ol 
Faery  or  bright  realm  of  Arcady. 

One  was  young,  the  other  had  reached  middle  age.  Let 
us  draw  their  outlines  with  a  few  strokes  of  the  pen.  The 
first  was  a  boy  of  sixteen  :  tall,  straight,  and  full  of  life. 
His  hair  was  brown  and  curling,  his  complexion  ruddy,  his 
lips  smiling.  He  wore  a  jaunty  little  cocked  hat;  elegant 
top  boots ;  kneebreeches  of  buckskin  ;  a  broadskirted  coat, 
and  white  ruffles  ;  in  his  hand  he  carried  a  small  rifle,  and 
behind  his  saddle  were  strapped  the  instruments  of  a  sur- 
veyor. The  laughing  boy  rode  a  handsome  little  sorrel,  and 
his  smile,  his  carriage,  liis  gestures,  all  indicated  youth  and 
joy  and  hope. 

His  companion  was  no  longer  young,  and  a  grim  smile  lit 
up  the  bold  features,  vividly  contrasting  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  boy.  The  worthy  was  tall  of  stature,  huge  of  limb,  a 
gigantic  war  machine,  armed  to  the  teeth  and  ready  for  com- 
bat. Under  the  drooping  hat  flashed  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  be- 
neath shaggy  brows;  the  sarcastic  lips  were  hidden  by  a  hea- 
vy black  moustache  which  swept  down  into  the  huge  beard  ; 
and  behind  this  moustache  shone  a  row  of  sharp  white  teeth 
which  resembled  those  of  a  bear  rather  than  a  man.  Hia 
dress  was  rough,  travel-Rtained,  and  chiefly  of  leather  ;  from 
his  well-worn  belt  depended  an  enormous  broadsword,  which 
clattered  against  his  heavy  boots — and  the  warlike  person- 
age bestrode  a  charger,  mighty  of  limb,  and  as  rough  and 
oowerful  in  appearance  as  himself. 

The  two  fi^es  remained  for  a  laoment  stationary,  gazing 


THB  ICABfTEB  OF  QBEBNWIY  OOUST.  11 

At  the  landscape;  then  the  elder  touched  his  horse,  ana 
moved  on. 

"  Come,  my  young  friend,*'  he  said,  in  a  species  of  growlj 
*'  the  sun's  getting  low  yonder,  and  we  had  better  push  on 
and  cross  the  Shenandoah  before  dark.'* 

"  Yes,  yes.  Captain,"  returned  the  boy,  but  I  could  look 
at  this  scene  forever — see  the  beautiful  colors  of  the  leaves, 
and  hear  the  wind  in  the  pines !' 

He  who  had  been  thus  addressed,  smiled  grimly. 

"  Listen  to  him !"  he  growled  :  "  sentiment  in  the  baok» 
wood,  i'faith  I  Keep  it  for  the  ladies,  Master  George  I — ^it*s 
thrown  away  on  Captain  Julius  Wagner,  otherwise  called 
Captain  Bloody  Longknife,  or  the  Devil  take  me  I'* 

"  Pshaw,  Captain  laughed  the  boy,  "  that  is  all  aflfecta- 
tion.  Tou  are  known  to  be  romantic — to  be  a  favorite  with 
the  ladies !  As  well  deny  that  you  are  the  prince  of  fron- 
tier-fighters." 

A  grim  smile  curled  the  huge  moustache,  and  with  his  fin- 
ger the  worthy  pushed  up  that  appendage  until  it  stood  out 
almost  horizontal 

"My  young  friend,"  was  the  sarcastic  reply,  "you are  flat- 
tering. I  reply  to  your  pleasing  observation  by  saying  that 
my  fortune,  both  as  an  admirer  of  the  fair  sex,  and  a  defend- 
er of  the  border,  has  been  truly  disgusting — ^more  especially 
the  latter.  Glorious !  the  life  of  a  soldier !  Humph !  to 
wear  your  life  out  fighting,  and  then  die,  some  day,  in  an 
unremembered  skirmish ! — to  have  an  end  put  to  you  by  a 
stray  bullet  from  the  rifle  of  a  rascally  Injun  ; — ^to  be  hud- 
dled into  a  hole  to  everybody *i8  satisfaction,  who  will  get  pro- 
motion  by  your  death  I — there's  fame,  there's  glory,  there's 
good  fortune  1" 

And  the  Captain's  lip  curled  elaborately. 

"  But  you  have  done  your  duty !"  said  the  ardent  boy; 
*  that  at  least  remains.  And  are  you  not  Captain  Wagner 
Jie  Valiant?" 

'^Oh  yes!  Captain  Wagner  the  Valiant,  without  %  oleas 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


shirt !  Captain  Wagner  the  Valiant,  m  leather  breeches  1 
Captain  Wagner  the  Valiant,  in  an  eld  seedy  buff  coat,  ana 
boots  with  holes,  and  rusty  old  spui's,  that  jingle,  by  my 
foith,  like  the  armor  of  Mars,  that  Egyptian  hero  I  have 
heard  of  !  Yes,  that's  all  Captain  Wagner  is  fit  for — seedy 
ooat,  boots  in  holes,  rusty  spurs,  and  fighting  Injuns  I 
Worse  even  than  that !  I  am  becoming  a  mere  courier,  a 
traveUing  horse,  a  miserable  hack — I  would  be  a  dandy  1" 
"  A  dandy  1"  laughed  George. 

"  Yes,  young  one;,  a  dandy,  like  what  I  have  seen  yonder  at 
Belhavon,  i'faith !  A  nicely  curled  fop,  with  sOk  gloves,  a  jew- 
elled snuff-box,  and  a  sweet  little  simper  in  my  voice — then 
['d  please  the  fair  sex.  Oh  that  Wagner  was  a  dandy — 
Wagner  the  savage  !  Oh  that  the  shaggy  old  bear,  with  hia 
growling  voice,  and  long  sharp  teeth,  could  be  changed  into 
a  kitten,  sleek  and  glossy,  to  gently  pur-r-r-r-r  ! — and  be 
taken  up  into  the  female  lap,  and  smoothed  down  the  back, 
and  made  a  pet  of  1" 

George  rephed  with  a  laugh  much  gayer  than  before. 

"  I  really  beheve  you  have  had  bad  luck  lately.  Captain  I 
Is  it  possible  that  "  

"  AU  things  are  possible  in  this  miserable  world,  my  young 
friend  ;  but  I  decline  any  statement  upon  this  interesting 
topic." 

"  Oh,  now  I  remember  I  I  heard  that  the  handsome  Mrs. 
Butterton  "  

"  Don't  call  names,  George,  my  friend,  and  let  us  change 
the  subject.  I  am  getting  hungry,  or  the  Devil  take  me  ; 
and  yonder  I  see  the  Shenandoah  between  us  and  supper. 
The  water's  up  and  booming  or  I'll  eat  my  head !" 

And  pushing  on  they  approached  the  river,  whicli  roared 
on  angrily  beneath  the  huge  white-armed  s;yjamores,  grow- 
ing on  the  steep  bank,  and  extendiug  their  boughs  above 
the  current. 

All  at  once,  as  George  and  his  companion  reached  the 
banki  their  attention  was  attracted  by  a  white  object  ix>  the 


THB  UAffTWR  OF  GBEENVT AI  OOXTBS. 


18 


middle  of  the  stream,  which  the  fading  Kght  illumined — ^and 
this  object  was  seen  to  be  the  head  of  a  horse,  above  which 
rose  a  pair  of  shoulders,  and  a  hat  decorated  with  a  black 
feather. 

"A  good  swimmer,"  muttered  Wagner;  "who  the  devfl 
can  he  be  ? — ^but  we'll  soon  see.  Come,  Injun-hater,  take  to 
water  1" 

And  spurring  his  black  charger  into  the  angry  current, 
Captain  Wagner  began  to  swim  with  the  phlegm  of  an  old 
traveller — George  following  in  his  wake  upon  his  little  sorreL 
The  snorting  animals  ploughed  their  way  through  the 
rapid  current;  placed  their  feet  upon  the  opposite  bank; 
and  with  vigorous  bounds  reached  dry  land  again.  The 
rider  of  the  white  horse  had  already  emerged  from  the 
stream,  and  was  awaiting  them. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  or  four,  erect,  slen- 
der, and  what  is  called  "  aristocratic  "  in  face,  bearing,  and 
expression.  The  frank  ^nd  smiling  countenance  was  lit  up 
by  a  species  of  joyous  pride — that  sunshine  beaming  in  the 
sky  of  youth — and  it  was  plain  from  the  young  man's 
dress,  as  from  the  carriage  of  his  person,  that  he  belonged 
to  the  class  then  known  as  "  the  Gentry."  His  brown  coat 
was  heavily  embroidered  ;  his  delicate  raffles  as  white  aa 
snow,  and  his  fair  top  boots,  defining  the  small  and  slender 
feet,  of  the  finest  leather.  At  his  side,  he  wore  a  handsome 
Bword  in  a  black  leather  belt  ;  behind  the  saddle  was  hia 
valise,  of  the  same  material,  and  his  hands  were  cased  in 
yeUow  gauntlets,  reaching  nearly  to  the  elbow.  One  ol 
those  1  lands  now  reined  in,  with  careless  grace,  the  spirited 
thoroughbred,  diipping  from  the  stream;  with  the  other  he 
made  a  salute  full  of  friendly  courtesy  to  Captain  Wagner 
and  George. 

"  Give  you  good  day,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  a  clear  and 
sonorous  voice.     As  we  are  travelling  in  the  same  direction, 
perhaps  you  can  direct  me  on  my  way.    Where  are  we 
mm  moment?" 


14 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


"Fll  tell  yon  in  a  few  words,  my  friend,"  returned  Wa^ 
ner.  "  You  are  now  in  the  Great  Valley  of  Virginia,  other** 
wise,  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  not  a  long  way  from  that 
assemblage  of  huts  called  Winchester;  what  is  better,  con- 
tsddering  supper,  you  are  near  Greenway  Court,  the  residence 
of  Thomas  Lord  Fairfax,  baron  of  Cameron,  and  so  forth 
and  so  forth — a  friend  of  mine,  who  will  not  let  you  go  fur 
ther  to-night,  comrade." 

"Good  I  I  came  to  see  his  lordship." 

"  Well,  you  have  only  to  follow  us.  My  name  is  Wagner, 
and  my  young  friend  is  called  Mr.  George." 

The  stranger  saluted  with  a  motion  full  of  grace  and 
frankness. 

"  You  are  by  no  means  a  stranger  to  me.  Captain,"  he 
replied,  "and  I  am  truly  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance — 
also  yours,  Mr.  George.  My  own  name  is  Falconbridge — 
very  much  at  your  service." 

"  Good,  good !"  said  the  Captain,  twirling  his  moustache, 
"  I  like  these  Httle  complimentary  speeches  :  they  sweeten 
this  miserable  life!  WeU,  comrade — and  observe,  I  must 
decidedly  have  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  as  I  call  you  *  com- 
rade' all  the  time — a  few  mUes  from  here  is  the  white 
post  his  lordship  has  stuck  up  to  direct  travellers  to  Green- 
way.  I  never  see  that  post  but  the  long  arms  seem  to 
stretch  out  toward  me,  and  a  voice  says,  *  Come  on^  Wag- 
ner, supper  is  smoking  I'  " 

With  these  words,  the  worthy  put  spur  to  his  horse,  and 
set  forward,  his  companions  following  and  conversing.  In 
fifteen  minutes,  George  had  completely  fallen  in  love  with 
the  young  man,  whose  smiles  and  accents,  full  of  winning 
eimpHcity,  won  his  heart.  From  that  moment  to  the  end  of 
tlie  drama,  these  two  hearts  were  to  beat  in  unison. 

Captain  Wagner  was  meanwhile  pushing  on,  through  the 
taU  grass  of  the  prairie,  over  which  stretched  a  narrow 
road,  his  mind  absorbed  in  deep  reflection  on  the  subject 
pf  supper*   The  last  rays  of  sunset  streaming  over  the  great^ 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREEKWAY  COURT. 


15 


flowery  expanse,  failed  to  attract  his  attention ;  he  moved 
on  steadily;  then  a  grnnt  was  heard  from  the  worthy,  and 
his  finger  pointed  to  a  white  post,  glimmering  in  the  twi- 
light. 

From  this,  a  good  road  led  to  Greenway  Court,  scarce  a 
mile  away.  They  followed  the  road ;  a  clump  of  oaks  rose 
all  at  once  before  them  and  a  long,  low  mansion,  in  front  of 
which  some  locusts  grew.  The  travellers  had  reached 
Greenway  Court,  the  residence  of  Lord  Fairfax. 


1$ 


n. 

6BEENWAT  00T7BT* 

EEENWAT  COXJET  was  a  long,  scope  bmlclmgi 

with  an  extensive  portico,  and  the  roof  was  over^ 
shadowed  by  the  boughs  of  lofty  locust  trees. 
At  each  end  rose  a  slender  chimney  ;  between, 
upon  the  summit  of  the  roof,  were  seen  two  belfries  ;  be- 
neath, three  or  four  dormer  windows  were  brushed  by  the 
October  foliage. 

At  fifty  paces  from  the  mansion,  and  connected  with  it  by 
a  winding  path,  across  the  sward,  a  low  stone  cabin  nestled 
onder  a  great  tree — and  here  Lord  Fairfax,  sitting  in  state, 
with  his  court  of  deer-hounds,  had  delivered  the  title  deeds 
of  nearly  all  that  portion  of  Virginia. 

The  grounds  of  the  mansion  were  encircled. by  a  rude 
fence,  and  to  this  fence  Captain  Wagner  proceeded  to 
attach  his  horse,  in  which  he  was  imitated  by  his  com- 
panions. 

They  were  not,  however,  the  first  comers.  Near  at  hand 
were  seen  two  animals,  tethered  in  the  same  manner;  one,  a 
plaia,  substantial  cob  ;  the  other  a  slender-legged  fiUy,  cov- 
ered with  a  cloth,  which  evidently  concealed  a  woman's 
saddle. 

Captain  Wagner  gazed  intently  for  an  instant,  at  the  two 
animals,  which  seemed  familiar  to  him ;  pulled  his  moustache 
upward  with  his  finger,  nodded  confidentially,  and  then  went 
with  long  strides  toward  the  house,  his  companions  following. 

The  mam  room,  which  the  Borderer  now  entered,  was 
peculiar.  It  was  an  apartment  hung  around  with  guns, 
blunderbuses,  antlers,  portraits,  fishing  nets,  and  long 
tapering  rods.   The  walls  were  rough  and  rudely  plasftered 


THB  MASTEB  OV  GBSENWA7  OOUBT.  IT 

~ihe  fnmiture  oaken,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three 
high-backpd,  carven  chairs  of  mahogany,  then  very  rare ; 
and  on  some  shelves  in  one  corner,  near  a  buffet  of  oak,  a 
number  of  old  volumes  in  brown  leather  blading  were  visi- 
ble, much  worn  and  soiled.  Among  these  was  a  fine  em- 
bossed copy  of  the  "  Spectator,"  lately  printed  in  London* 
to  which  the  owner  of  the  mansion  had  contributed  some 
papers,  written  perhaps  in  the  study  of  his  friend,  Joseph 
Addison. 

It  wiU  thus  be  seen  that  the  apartment  was  a  striking 
exhibition  of  the  commingHng  of  two  things — refinement, 
and  rudeness  ,  of  two  types,  the  court  and  the  backwooda 
This  characteristic  was  further  apparent  in  the  jumble  of  sil- 
ver plate,  and  cheap  gaily-colored  crockery  on  the  buffet:  and 
finally,  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle  standing  in  the  comer  had 
forced  itself  between  the  leaves  of  one  of  those  volumes  in 
which  serene  Mr.  Addison  discussed  the  last  refinements  of 
the  luxurious  society  of  England. 

This  was  the  apartment  which  the  travellers  entered — to 
whose  brpad  fire-place,  with  its  crackling  sticks,  they  diew 
near. 

Lord  Fairfax  was  not  visible,  but  two  other  personages 
were  seated  before  the  fire,  illuminated  by  the  last  beams  of 
sunset  streaming  through  the  western  window.  The  first 
was  a  gentleman  past  middle  age,  plainly  clad,  and  with 
nothing  striking  in  his  appearance.  The  other  personage,  a 
young  girl,  whose  figure  was  eminently  noticeable.  She  was 
apparently  about  twenty,  with  dark  hair,  dark  eyes  and  radi- 
ant complexion.  Her  bare  arms,  from  which  she  had  thrown 
the  sleeves  of  her  riding  cloak,  were  models  of  symmetry, 
and  her  figure  was  extremely  graceful  She  was  clad  richly 
for  the  border,  and  wore  many  rings  upon  her  tapering  fin- 
gers, but  no  one  for  a  moment  gave  a  thought ,  to  h^r  cos- 
tume. The  remarkable  face  attracted  all  eyes.  It  w&s  a 
singular  face — ^the  eyes  dark  and  liquid,  full  of  softne»*s  and 
tre;  the  lips  red  and  moist,  and  adapted  to  expre^^  fH 


18 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


emotions;  the  brow  lofty  and  snow  white;  :h.e  poise  and  otr 

riage  of  the  head,  and  equally  of  the  person,  fascinating.  This 
was  the  appearance  of  the  young  woman  whom  the  stranger 
gazed  at  with  surprise  and  admiration. 

Captain  Wagner  greeted  the  occupants  of  the  apartment 
with  the  air  of  an  old  acquaintance,  acquitting  himself  of  the 
task  of  introduction  with  much  easy  unconcern,  except  that 
a  keen  observer  might  have  imagined  from  the  rude  frontiers* 
man's  manner  that  the  lady  was  no  favorite  with  him. 

This,  however,  was  not  seen  by  George  or  Falconbridge; 
at  least  they  did  not  bow  the  less  low,  or  smile  the  less 
courteously. 

See,"  said  the  Captain,  stroking  his  beard  and  smiling 
amiably,  "  see  what  pleasant  people  we  meet  at  the  end  of 
our  journey,  instead  of  my  Lord  Fairfax,  who,  I  don't  mind 
saying,  is  sometimes,  nevertheless,  an  agreeable  companion. 
Faith !  I  know  my  good  luck,  friend  Argal,  and  would 
rather  be  here  than  out  yonder  in  the  backwoods  with  some 
surly  rascal,  who  crouches  over  a  wet  fire  and  grodges  you 
your  seat  on  the  log,  and  your  part  of  the  blanket !  And 
then  the  smoke  I"  continued  the  Borderer,  bending  over  tha 
blaze,  and  snuffing  up  the  clouds  of  white  smoke;  "faith  I 
it  reminds  me  of  my  childhood — our  chimney  smoked  1" 

George  smiled  and  sat  down  opposite  the  soldier;  tho 
stranger  had  already  taken  his  seat  near  the  young  lady,  and 
had  entered  into  conversation  with  her. 

"Well,  friend  Argal,"  said  the  Captain  to  the  gentleman 
who  held  in  his  hand  a  package  of  papers  which  he  had 
been  examining,  "  what  news  on  the  border?  Any  Injuna, 
eh?" 

"Yes,  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Argal,  courteously,  "  reports  are 
rife  about  them," 
"Reports?" 

"  They  say  that  there  is  imminent  danger  of  an  inroad 
soon." 

Humph  I"  replied  the  Borderer, — "  *  they  say  ia  a  greal 


TSE  MAHTEB  07  GBESNWAT  GOTTBT. 


19 


Kar,  I  need  not  tell  you,  sir.  But  let  us  not  frighten  the 
fair  sex*   I  hope  Miss  Bertha  is  well?'* 

And  the  soldier,  with  a  movement  in  tvhich  a  doM 
observer  might  have  descried  a  singular  coldness,  turned  to 
the  young  girL 

She  simply  inclined  her  head,  and  went  on  conversing 
with  the  stranger;  toward  him  her  air  was  very  different. 
It  was  full  of  a  winning  grace,  a  fascinating  favor. 

The  Borderer  did  not  seem  to  notice  all  tliis,  but  a  vague 
sound  from  his  stalwart  chest  indicated  some  concealed 
sentiment.  This,  however,  he  suppressed  in  a  moment,  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Argal,  he  said : 

"I  don't  see  my  Lord  Fairfax.  Where  is  he,  my  dear 
friend?" 

"  He  is  gone  a-'unting,  sir,"  said  a  grave  and  respectful 
voice  behind  the  soldier,  "  a-'unting,  if  you  please,  sir." 

"  Ah  I  here's  old  John !"  cried  the  Borderer  ;  "glad  to  see 
you,  my  friend.    Faith,  give  me  your  hand!" 

And  the  Captain  cordially  pressed  the  hand  of  the  old 
servant.  Old  John  was  Lord  Fairfax's  body  servant,  and 
wore  his  master's  livery  with  the  exception  of  the  coat, 
which  was  one  of  the  earl's — ^heavily  laced  and  ornamented. 

He  took  the  offered  hand  of  the  soldier  with  deep  respect, 
wad  then  drew  back  quietly,  overwhelmed  with  the  honor. 

"He's  gone  a-hunting  has  he — the  good  earl  I  eh? ,  Well, 
when  will  he  return,  John?" 

"  I  rayther  expect  him  to-night,  sir,"  said  John. 

**GoodI — ^then  you  are  not  certain?" 

"No,  sir;  very  often  he  is  gone  a  day  or  two,  sir." 

And  John  stood  respectfully  awaiting  further  questions. 

"Did  he  expect  me  to-day?" 

"  I  think  rayther,  sir." 

•*  Very  well,  get  me  supper  and  beds  for  my  friends.** 
Old  John  was  in  his  element  again;  his  master's  hospital 
tty  was  put  in  requisition. 
*^D'reo41jr,  sir — ^yes,  sir,"  he  said,  going  toward  the  fidda^ 


board.  "Plenty  o*  beds,  sir,  for  yac  and  your  honor'a 
friends — d'rectly,  sir  1" 

But  Mr.  Argal  stopped  him  as  he  was  going  out. 

"Bring  up  our  horses  first,  John,'*  he  said,  "I  have  wailed 
as  long  as  possible  to  see  his  lordship.  It  is  already  night 
Bertha." 

Bertha  placed  one  hand  upon  her  breast,  and  uttered  a 
little  cough. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  "I  wish  we  had  gone  sooner,  I  am 
afraid"  

And  the  young  girl  was  interrupted  by  a  violent  fit  ol 
coughing. 

"Whatl  you  have  a  very  bad  attack  of  cold,"  said  her 
father.    "  I  did  not  observe  it  before." 

"Yes,  sir,"  returned  the  young  girl,  placing  her  hand 
upon  her  throat,  and  contracting  her  beautiful  brows,  as 
though  she  were  suffering  pain;  "yes,  sir,  I  have  felt  it  com- 
ing on  all  day,  but  managed  to  suppress  it  until  now.  It 
pains  me  very  much:"  here  she  paused  to  cough  again; 

but  if  you  desire  it,  I  will "  

A  more  violent  fit  here  seized  the  young  lady,  and  she 
coughed  until  she  was  completely  exhausted,  leaning  back 
in  her  chair  for  support. 

Mr.  Argal  looked  very  much  annbyed. 

"Permit  me  to  say,  sir,"  said  Falconbridge,  "that  expos- 
ure to  the  night  air  will  aggravate  Miss  Argal's  indisposition. 
If  possible  she  should  remain  here  until "  

Another  fit  of  coughing. 

"  But  I  cannot — ^it  will  be  extremely  inconvenient:  beddes 
the  house  here  is  limited  in  size,  and  '*  

"Don't  fear,  your  honor,"  here  interposed  old  John,  who 
had  entered  with  a  hissing  urn  and  a  pile  of  platen  the  mo- 
ment before.  "Don't  fear,  sir;  plenty  of  room,  sir.  We 
nave  two  spare  chambers,  and  several  beds  in  them,  sir;  my 
master  would  never  hear  of  your  going,  sir." 

Mr.  Argal  hesitated,  evidently  annoyed. 


fBM  HASTSB  Of  OtKEEN^AT  OOtTBS  il 

"Ctettmg  Tery  cold,  sir,"  added  the  hospitable  John,  re« 
Bpectfully,  "and  if  it's  uot  presmnin',  sir,  the  young  lady, 
sir,  is  *'  

Here  the  young  lady  conghed  distressingly. 

"  m  go  if  you  wish,  father,"  she  said,  in  an  artleos,  un- 
complaining voice;  "but  my  breast  feels  very  badly.  I 
don't  suppose  it  will  make  me  very  sick — if  you  want  to  go, 
sir   

"  WeU,  well,  daughter,  we  will  remain,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. "  If  you  are  really  unwell,  all  the  business  in  the 
world  shall  not  make  me  you  take  you  out.  See  to  cur 
horses,  John,"  he  added,  "  and  as  you  say  there  are  cham- 
bers, make  one  of  the  women  prepare  a  bed  for  my 
daughter." 

"Yes,  sir — d'rectly,  sir." 

And  old  John,  having  set  the  table  with  the  <3ase  of  a 
practiced  hand,  hurried  out,  and  was  heard  giving  orders  in 
a  magisterial  tone  to  the  negroes  of  the  e.stablishment. 

Captain  Wagner  remained  silent,  gazing  into  the  fire;  his 
huge  shoulders  bending  forward,  as  was  habitual  with  him, 
and  his  sword  striking  heavily  from  time  to  time  against 
the  floor  as  he  moved. 

George  was  looking  over  a  map  of  the  region,  which  ha 
had  taken  from  the  shelves;  Falconbridge  and  Miss  Arga] 
had  resumed  their  conversation. 

The  young  lady's  cough  had  disappeared. 

Then  old  John  entered,  marshalling  in  a  smoking  supper, 
borne  by  yoiithful  Africans;  and  the  savory  odor  seemed  to 
diffuse  an  emotion  of  pleasing  satisfaction  through  the 
mind  of  Captain  Wagner. 

They  all  supped  comfortably,  and  the  Borderer  was  still 
eating  when  they  had  finished. 

"Faith,  I'm  always  hungry  1"  he  said  ;  "more  beef, friend 
John." 

"  Yes,  sir — d'rectly,  sir." 

And  old  John  carved  rapidly. 


22 


?Iore  ewryttdngl"  said  the  Oaptain.  fr©  jnst  oosa? 
menced,  or  the  devil  take  it/* 

More  of  everything  was  supplied,  and  at  last  the  soldier 
rose,  stretching  himself,  and  yawning. 

"  Nearly  bed-time,  I  think  I"  he  said.  "  Come,  George ! 
give  up  my  couch  *'  

"  Your  couch,  Captain  ?"  / 

"  Yes,  that  leather  chair !  Vacate  I  I  sleep  here  by  the^ 
fire;  I  know  nothing  of  beds!" 

George  smiled,  and  resigned  his  broad,  sloping-backed 
chair. 

"  You  and  the  rest  can  take  the  big  room,"  continued  the 
Captain;  "  this  young  lady  the  small  apartment  Faith  !  I 
know  Green  way  Court  by  heart  1" 

And  the  Captain,  having  first  piled  some  more  woo<l  upo::^ 
the  fire,  stretched  himself  comfortably  in  the  leather  chair 
and  closed  his  eyes. 


m  MASTXB  07  GBEEHTT A7  (X)UB!r. 


2S 


HOW  CAFTXIN  WAGTSTEK  BECAMJi  UNEAifY  TN  HIS  SLEEP* 

N  five  minutes  tlie  Borderer  was  snoring  with  an 
unction  wliich  brouf^ht  a  smile  to  the  faces  of  his 
comi^anions.  He  had  closed  his  eyes  with  the 
words,  "Take  care,  my  dear  frienc^s,  I  hear  very 
well  in  my  sleep — therefore  don't  speak  ill  of  me;"  but  thLg 
seemed  quite  an  idle  boast.  The  Captatu  presented  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  frontier  GoHdth.  worn  out  by  fatigue^  or  som- 
niferous fi'cm  the  extent  of  his  last  meal. 

"Come,  Bertha,"  said  Mr.  Aigal,  rising,  "we  must  set 
oat  very  early,  and  it  would  be  advisable  to  retire,  I  think, 
I  see  old  John  at  the  door  waiting  for  us." 

"Yes,  sir — when  you're  ready,  sir— everything  right,  sir/ 
came  respectfully  from  the  door,  -rvhich  opened  on  a  flight 
of  stairs,  "  right  hand  for  the  gentiemen — the  other  room  is 
ready  for  Miss  ArgaL** 

"Please  send  the  maid  to  show  me  the  v^ay,'^  said  the 
young  lady,  with  a  smile,  good-night,  father,  I  will  follow 
in  a  moment* 

The  old  gentleman  nodded,  and  kisfdng  her  on  the  fore- 
head, went  out,  followed  by  George. 
Falconbridge  rose. 

"Stay  and  entertain  me  for  a  moment,"  she  said,  smiling 
"  until  my  maid  comes." 

He  sat  down  quickly:  so  quickly  that  any  one  would  have 
understood  from  the  movement,  how  gladly  he  complied 
with  the  request. 

The  door  oiooad  upon  Mr  Argal  and  OMrge.  Thm 


eommenced  a  conversation,  at  Srst  upon  indifferent  mibject8 

in  tlie  ordinary'  key,  but  gradually  becoming  more  confiden- 
tial, if  the  word  may  be  used,  and  carried  on  in  lower  tonea 
To  a  curious  observer,  the  spectacle  would  have  possessed 
a  profound  and  absorbing  interest — for  it  was  that  of  a  wo- 
man of  dazzling  beauty,  and  immense  finesse^  marshalling  all 
her  dangerous  powers  against  the  heart  of  a  frank  and 
truthful  gentlf?man,  into  whose  breast  the  shadow  of  sua- 
picion  never  had  for  a  moment  entered-  The  glances  which 
she  cast  upon  him  were  dazzling,  electric  ;  he  felt  his  cheeks 
dush,  and  his  pulses  throb. 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  me  unmaidenly  ?"  came  in  a  low 
murmur  from  the  crimson  lips. 

"  Because  you  express  your  satisfaction  at  my  coming 
said  Falconbridge;  "how  can  you  ask  such  a  question?" 

•'I  feared  you  might;  I  am  so  unfortunate,  in  never  con- 
cealing what  I  feel.  Frankly,  then,  I  hope  you  will  come 
and  see  me — we  are  almost  buried  in  the  woods." 

I  surely  shaU.  I  am  too  happy  to  be  able  to  contribute 
to  your  amusement." 

"No,  do  not  say  my  amusement"  

She  stopped,  blushing  deeply. 

"Do  not  look  at  me,"  she  murmured,  turning  away,  "I 
am  so  foolish  "  

"  Tour  room  is  ready,  miss,"  said  the  maid,  opening  the 
door. 

"  Wait  for  me  in  the  chamber,"  was  jVIiss  Argal's  reply. 
"T  T\411  come  up  in  a  moment.    It  is  very  early,  is  it  not 
she  added,  turning  with  a  languishing  smile  to  Falcon- 
bridge,  as  the  maid  disappeared. 

"Very,"  he  replied,  "  and  if  you'll  not  regard  m©  as  pre- 
sumptuous, I  will  say  that  I  have  httle  desire  to  exchange 
your  society  for  my  own  thoughts  or  dreams." 

"Of  what  do  you  dream?"  she  said,  smiling  archly,  and 
throwing  at  him  one  of  those  fascinating  glances  whiok 
possessed  such  a  singular  attracticm* 


THE  MASTER  OF  aREENWAT  COURT. 


2S 


Oh  I  of  many  things.  Of  my  lowland  home  -of  the 
strange  land  to  which  I  go,  for  I  have  come  to  see  about 
some  proper<>y  in  the  wilderness  which  I  am  entitled  to,  by 
a  grant  from  Lord  Fairfax." 

"  Are  your  dreams  never  filled  with  brighter  imag^  ?'* 

**  With  brighter  images  ?  Ah !  you  mean  with  the  forms 
of  ladies  fairl"  he  laughed;  "no,  no,  I  have  never  loved." 

"  Then  your  heart  is  cold  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  1    I  think  'tis  a  warm  one/* 

The  young  lady  sighed  deeply. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh  so  ?"  he  asked. 

She  played  with  the  ribbon  around  her  waist,  and  looked 
in  silence  at  the  floor. 

"  Only  my  foolish  thoughts,"  she  murmured  ;  "  I  thought 
— ^what  a  treasure  it  would  be  to  me — a  heart  that  had 
never  loved  "  

As  she  spoke  she  suffered  the  hand  which  played  with  tha 
ribbon  to  fall  beside  her.  The  hand  of  Falconbridge  was 
hanging  down,  and  the  two  came  in  collision.  Mastered  by 
a  sudden  and  wild  impulse,  and  forgetting  every  rule  of 
etiquette,  he  imprisoned  the  snowy  hand  in  his  own,  and 
raised  it  to  his  lips.  The  young  lady  blushed,  but  did  not 
withdraw  it.  For  an  instant  the  eyes  of  the  two  persons 
met  and  exchanged  a  long,  and  absorbing  look: — the  young 
man's  were  filled  with  an  ardent  admiration,  the  young 
lady's  with  a  languishing  sweetness. 

"I  must  go  now,"  she  murmured,  slowly  withdrawing  her 
hand.    "  Good-night  1" 

And  with  a  last  look,  she  opened  the  door  just  as  the 
maid  placed  her  hand  on  the  knob.  Had  the  young  lady 
heard  her  step  descending  the  stairs  ? 

Falconbridge  sat  down,  and  leaning  his  head  upon  hig 
Hand,  gazed  into  the  dying  fire.  Nothing  disturbed  the 
silence  but  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  soldier,  who,  stretched 
in  his  great  leathern  chair,  had  never  once  moved  during 
the  ooUoquj. 


S6 


FAIRFAX,  OE, 


"  Strange  I*'  murmiired  Falconbridge;  "  strange  young  girll 
r  scarcely  fathom  her  character,  or  understand  her  singulai 
demeanor.  They  tell  me  that  I  have  sound  intelligence, 
that  I  read  men — but,  pshaw  I  I  am  quite  at  sea  with  thia 
young  girl.  What  a  dazzling,  superb  beauty  I  Well,  well — 
this  is  folly!" 

And  he  gazed  again  in  silence  into  the  fire.  For  more 
than  half  an  hour  he  remained  thus  motionless — reflecting. 
Then  turning  his  head,  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  wistful  smile 
he  gazed  at  the  form  of  the  sleeping  giant  in  the  leathern 
ohair. 

"  A  brave  man,  and  with  a  warm,  strong  heart  under  all 
that  roughness,  I  see  plainly  !"  he  murmured.  "  How  great 
a  contrast  to  this  beautiful  young  creature,  does  he  present  1 
A  strange  world — yes,  very  strange — strangest  of  all  that  I 
am  here  I" 

And  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  smiled.  The  dying 
fire-light  Kt  up  his  youthful  face,  rich  costume,  and  brilliant 
eyes,  making  him  resemble  some  picture  of  the  Middle  Age. 
He  remained  thus,  leaning  back  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  rose. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  all  this  wiH  have  its  course 
—but  I  soon  pass — enough  for  one  day." 

And  saluting  the  sleeping  soldier  with  the  smiling  words, 
"  Happy  dreams,  companion  I"  he  left  the  room,  and  retired 
to  his  chamber. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  than  the  eyes  of  Captain 
Wagner  slowly  opened,  and  he  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  door,  muttering.  Then  his  heavy  moustache  curled 
dowly  toward  his  ears,  and  under  the  mass  appeared  hia 
large,  sharp  teeth.    He  sat  up  and  looked  at  the  fire. 

"  Some  people  would  say  that  I  have  done  what  is  dis- 
honest and  unsoldierly,"  he  muttered,  kicking  the  brands  oi 
the  fire  together,  "  let  *em  I  I  was  asleep  and  I  woke,"  he 
added»  gloomily.     I  believe  the  sound  of  that  roioe  woke 


THS  UA&TEB  OF  GBEENWAT  OOtJBXl  2Y 

His  ejes  were  raised  toward  the  ceiliBg,  and  a  strange 
expression  filled  them,  making  them  bum  tinder  their 
oh^aggy  brows. 

"  Good,  good  I  it's  well  I'm  here,"  he  muttered,  "  and  rU 
a<st  a  comrade's  part  by  him,  or  the  devil  take  it — ^but  not 
too  much  1    A  noble  fellow  I    He  shall  not  be  tricked !" 

The  Captain  muttered  something  more  to  himself;  and 
then  stopping  suddenly,  Hstened. 

"  There,  I  am  at  my  folly  again,"  he  growled.  "  I'm  a 
dog  and  can't  sleep — I  am  di*eamingl" 

But  in  spite  of  this  he  rose,  and  went  to  the  front  win- 
dow. It  was  secured  by  the  heavy  shutter,  through  which 
a  streak  of  moonlight  was  visible. 

The  Borderer  seemed  uneasy;  he  walked  to  the  other 
window;  stooped  down,  and  for  an  instant  seemed  almost 
to  be  smelling  at  it:  and  this  idea  appeared  to  cross  his 
mind,  for  he  laughed,  and  returned  to  his  place  before  the 
fire. 

"I m  a  fool,"  he  said,  but  I  swear  I  felt  uneasy:  I  must 
decidedly  get  over  this!  I'm  never  at  rest — ^why  can't  I 
sleep?" 

The  fire  began  to  burn  clearly  again,  and  give  out  a 
pleasing  warmth.  The  Borderer  held  his  hands  over  the 
blaze  for  a  moment,  then  lay  back  in  his  chair;  and  placing 
hifi  huge  boots  upon  the  broad-topped  andirons,  began  io 
snore  almost  immediately. 

The  fire  caught  a  fresh  stick  and  licked  it  merrily,  and 
blazed  aloft,  but  the  Borderer  slept  on  in  spite  of  the  full 
light  it  poured  upon  him. 


18 


lintviz;  OB. 


IV. 

BOW    CAPTiLlK    LOKGENIFE    SAW    WITHOUT    SXEHIC^,    ASD  WHA9 

FOIXOWED. 

HE  long  hours  of  tlie  night  passed  on,  and  no 
sound  was  heard  throughout  the  slumbering 
mansion  but  the  subdued  tick  of  an  old  clock  in 
the  passage,  and  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  sol- 
dier. At  times  he  would  stir  in  his  sleep,  and  the  heavy 
sabre  would  rattle  against  the  floor;  but  this  noise  would 
soon  shudder  and  die  away  in  the  remote  apartments,  and 
again  all  would  be  silent. 

Without,  the  moonhght  slept  upon  the  wild  and  solemn 
scene  of  forest  and  prairie,  and  nothing  disturbed  the  quiet 
of  the  chill  October  night,  but  the  cry  of  wild  birds,  or  the 
stealthy  footsteps  of  the  mysterious  inhabitants  of  the  forest, 
abroad  now,  while  their  enemies  were  sleeping.  At  times, 
the  chill  wind  would  sweep  over  the  tall  prairie,  and  a  sob- 
bing soimd  would  rise,  then  die  away;  and  over  all  poured 
the  solemn  moonhght,  which  seemed  to  brood  upon  the 
wild  scene  like  a  dream. 

A  piercing  eye,  however,  might  have  descried  more  than 
one  flitting  form  under  the  lofty  forest;  an  acute  ear  have 
discerned  sounds  which  belonged  neither  to  the  bear,  the 
panther,  nor  the  wind.  Other  eyes  than  those  of  wild  beasts 
were  direc-ted  toward  the  silent  mansion,  which  raised  its 
walls  thus  on  tne  outskirts  of  civilization,  disputing  the 
sovereig:ity  of  the  great  woods: — and  those  burning  glances 
were  measuring  its  strength  and  weakness,  the  capacity  ol 
its  inmates  for  a  mortal  struggle. 

The  huge  Borderer  breathed  heavily  in  his  chair,  and 
resembled  some  gigantic  statue  oome  down  from  its  pedes* 
4.^1^^^       .-^^4.  t^Ii^Ia  TYiorfAlq  wlp-nt     "FVom  timi*  ic 


«HX  MASIEB  07  GBEEKWA?  00T7BT.  29 

Kme  the  flitting  and  bubbling  fire  would  burn  out  brightly 
and  reveal  the  recumbent  figure  in  its  full  proportions: — ^but 
it  already  flickered  and  promised  soon  to  die  away.  The 
cool  air  already  began  to  invade  the  apartment,  and  the  sol-« 
dier  turned  uneasily. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  window  opening  into  the  paeh 
i^age  stealthily  creaked,  and  suddenly  a  thread  of  moonhght 
gilvered  the  floor. 

Then  the  shutter  was  opened  still  more,  the  windoi^v 
eautiouslv  raised,  and  a  head  appeared  at  the  aperture.  It 
was  the  head  of  an  Indian  boy,  with  long,  straight,  black 
hair,  sparkling  eyes,  and  swarthy  cheeks. 

The  head  remained  perfectly  motionless  for  about  five 
minutes;  only  the  restless  and  ever-moving  eyes  roved  from 
Bide  to  side. 

At  the  end  of  this  time  the  window  was  wholly  raised — 
the  Indian  drew  his  body  up,  and  falling  upon  his  feet  noise- 
lessly, stood  within  the  house. 

Motionless  as  before,  he  reconnoitered.  The  door  of  tJie 
great  room  in  which  the  Borderer  slept,  was  half  open,  and 
creeping  stealthily  toward  it,  the  Indian  looked  in.  At 
sight  of  the  warlike  sleeper,  he  recoiled  two  paces,  and 
looked  behind  him  fearfully,  in  order  to  be  sure  that  the 
means  of  escape  remained.  The  window  remained  up;  and 
the  sight  of  the  opening  seemed  to  reassure  the  spy. 

He  again  approached  the  door — opened  it  a  few  inches 
wider,  and  looked  curiously  in,  as  though  to  take  note  of 
any  other  persons,  in  the  apartment.  His  eye  then  dwelt 
upon  Captain  Wagner,  and  he  placed  his  hand  upon  his 
girdle,  from  which  hung  a  Hatchet. 

As  he  did  so,  the  Borderer  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked 
h\Tn  full  in  the  face 

The  Indian,  with  one  stealthy  bound  arrived  at  the  win- 
dow, and  was  about  to  pass  through,  when  he  suddenly 
checked  himsell  No  noise  had  come  from  the  sleepeTi 
>>^/v»  >>A  hnA  r*r>i  rAolW  wftViv^ '  <^r*nbtlAci«  it  wa3  a  preflenti« 


80 


FAIBFAX*  OB, 


ment»  the  eye  fixed  upon  his  face  which  had  waked  him,  of 
rather  disturbed  him  in  his  sleep. 

The  dull  eye  of  the  Indian  boy  glittered,  and  he  dre^ 
back  into  the  deep  shadow,  out  of  the  gleam  of  the  fire. 
With  a  muttered  "  ough  he  touched  the  forefinger  of  his 
left  hand  with  that  of  his  right,  appai*ently  counting. 

Then  his  roving  eye  turned  on  all  sides,  and  he  looked  tip 
the  short,  steep  stairs : — his  foot  rested  on  the  first  step.  The 
step  was  of  firm  oak  and  did  not  creak.  The  Indian 
mounted  another  step,  and  so,  stealthily,  and  pausing  each 
moment  to  hsten,  arrived  at  the  top. 

His  first  movement  was  to  creep  to  the  window  opening 
upo'^  the  roof — one  of  the  dormer  -vvindows,  of  which  we 
have  spoken — and  raise  it.  From  the  roof  of  the  house  to 
that  of  the  long  porch,  was  but  a  step.  Thence  ne  could 
easily  glide  down. 

Two  or  three  dusky  forms  appeared  for  a  moment  in  the 
moonlight,  and  then  vanished  beneath  the  solemn  trees  of 
the  forest. 

The  spy  placed  his  hand  upon  the  knob  of  Miss  Argal's 
door,  and  slowly  and  noiselessly  turned  it.  The  door 
opened  without  sound. 

The  moonlight  streamed  full  upon  the  bed,  but  threw  the 
features  of  the  sleeper  into  shadow.  It  was  evidently  the 
aim  of  the  Indian,  however,  to  ascertain  the  numerical 
strength  in  men,  of  the  house:  and  he  crept  stealthily,  like 
a  young  panther,  toward  the  bed. 

Before  he  could  bend  down  close  enough  to  see,  how- 
ever; before  his  black  eye  and  hot  breath  had  approached 
her  cheek,  the  young  girl  started  up,  and  uttered  a  pierc- 
ing shriek,  which  rang  through  the  house  like  a  cry  of 
death 

The  Indian  seized  his  hatchet,  and  catching  her  by  the 
wrist,  endeavored  to  raise  the  weapon  and  strike  her.  It 
had  become  twiated  in  his  belt,  and  before  he  oonld  extzv 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAY  OOUBT* 


31 


KAte  it,  a  noise  in  the  opposite  room  caught  his  quick  ear, 
and  he  arrived  by  a  single  leap  at  the  window. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  opposite  door  was  thrown 
violently  open,  and  Faloonbridge  came  forth  quickly,  full^ 
dressed,  and  hurried  toward  the  room. 

The  young  girl,  who  had  risen  in  her  night-robe,  ran  to* 
ward  him,  threw  her  ai-ms  round  him,  and  sobbing,  "Ok 
father  I  father  !"  btuied  her  head  in  his  bosom. 

All  had  taken  place  in  a  moment;  but  that  had  been  time 
enough  for  the  soldier  to  rouse  himself. 

He  now  appeared  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps,  bearing  in 
his  hand  a  flaming  torch,  from  the  fire;  and  mounted  with 
a  bound  which  shook  the  flooring, 

"  What's  this  ?    What's  this  ?    Speak  I"  he  cried. 

The  lady  clung  closer  to  Ealconbridge,  burying  her  faci 
more  deeply  in  his  bosom. 

"  Oh,  father  !  father  !"  was  all  which  she  uttered. 

Mr.  Argal  and  George  appeared  at  the  door  half  dressed, 
and  uttering  wondering  exclamations. 

"How,  daughter? — what?  how? — the  meaning  of  this 
extraordinary  scene  ?  and  that  noise  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  means,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  with 
a  sort  of  ironical  gloom,  "but  the  devil  eat  me,  if  I  ever  saw 
anything  as  striking  as  that  picture  in  all  my  Hfe  before. 

And  the  Borderer,  with  a  curl  of  his  moustache,  extended 
the  huge  arm  bearing  the  torch,  toward  Falconbridge  and 
the  lady. 

"Most  extraordinary!"  cried  the  bewildered  gentleman; 
**  why,  Bertha,  something  has  fi-ightened  you  I  Look  up  ! 
are  you  aware,  daughter  "  

The  young  girl  raised  her  head,  and  started,  or  pretended 
to  start,  violently  at  sight  of  Falconbridge.  No  one  observed 
ill©  sarcastic  curl  of  the  Captain's  lip. 

"  Oh,  father  I"  she  cried,  hastily  retreating  into  her  room, 
oj&d  drawing  her  drapery  cxioicklj  around  her  soIdiei'Si  "  Oh, 
It  was  80  dreadful  1'' 


82 


••What  I— dreadful?" 

"  Oh,  yes  sir — an  Indian  came  to  my  bedside,  and  oaa^ , 
my  wrist,  and  tried  to  kill  me — oh,  pir 

And  the  young  girl  was  heard  falling  into  a  chair,  and 
sobbing  faintly. 

"An  Indian  in  your  room?  you  are  dreaming,  daughter  I* 

"No,  sir!"  said  Captain  Wagner,  gloomily,  "your  daugh- 
ter did  not  dream  it  I — in  my  sleep  I  dreamed,  I  thought — 
wretched  animal  that  I  am,  to  lie  there  like  a  hog — ^but 
seer 

And  stooping  quickly,  the  Borderer  pounced  upon  a  por- 
cupine quill. 

"  Here  I"  he  said,  "  here  is  the  proof !  This  is  from  an 
Injun  moccasin  1  And  that  window  I  Friends,  1  for  one  am 
no  fool  r 

And  the  Captain  hurled  his  torch  upon  the  floor,  and 
fcrod  upon  it  with  his  iron  heel. 

"  To  your  tree  1"  he  cried,  "  Injuns  1" 

At  the  same  instant  a  flight  of  arrows  whistled  through 
the  air,  and  passing  within  a  few  inches  of  the  soldier's 
head,  buried  themselves,  quivering  in  the  beam  of  the  stair- 
ease. 

"Bah!  no  rifles  1"  cried  the  Captain.  "But  they're  on 
us  I"  he  cried,  arriving  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  by  a  sin- 
gle leap,  "  to  arms  I" 

As  he  spoke,  a  terrific  war-whoop  rang  through  the  forest, 
and  a  dozen  Indians  darted  from  the  shadow,  and  thre"^ 
themselves  upon  the  house. 

Captain  Wagner  reached  the  door  just  as  it  yielded  to  the 
powerful  pressure  of  the  assailants. 

Having  no  time  to  draw  his  sword,  the  gigantic  Borderei 
seized  one  of  the  carved  chairs,  and  whirling  it  like  a  straw 
around  his  head,  struck  the  foremost  Indian  a  blow  so  ter 
rible,  that  it  literally  drove  him  through  the  crowd  behind 
him,  maimed  and  bloody. 

Set  on  fire  by  the  sight  of  blood,  and  deyonred  with  bis  old 


farjr  of  battle,  the  Borderer,  without  waiting  for  hia  oom- 
panions,  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the  assailants,  whirling 
his  broken  weapon  around  his  head,  and  bearing  all  before 
him. 

The  Indians  endeavored  in  vain  to  strike  him — his  gigan- 
tic stature  and  sweep  of  arm  bore  them  down: — they  nncon- 
Bciously  drew  back. 

The  movement  brought  the  Borderer  into  the  moonlight; 
which  streamed  full  upon  his  face  and  person. 

The  Indians  uttered  a  yell  of  rage  and  fear. 

**  Longknif e !"  burst  from  the  crowd,  and  they  retreated 
before  the  soldier  with  almost  superstitious  awe. 

As  they  did  so,  Falconbridge,  Mr.  Argal  and  George 
rushed  from  the  house,  to  the  Captain's  succor,  and  behind 
them  appeared  the  affrighted  domestics  with  pale  faces,  and 
uttering  exclamations. 

The  Indians,  spite  of  their  numbers,  lost  heart — ^retreated 
toward  the  forest — and  with  cries  of  rage  dived  into  its 
gloomy  depths,  and  fled,  followed  by  the  chance-aimed  balls 
of  their  enemies. 

Captain  Wagner  drew  back,  bending  down,  panting,  and 
knitting  his  brows. 

"I  counsel  a  return  to  the  house,  friends!'*  he  said 
"  youH  lose  nothing;  all's  done !" 

And  he  turned  toward  the  doc;r.  Dii^ectly  in  bis  path  lay 
the  Indian  he  had  struck  upon  the  head — stunr  -  1,  bleeding, 
and  insensible. 

"Take  the  black  devil  in;  he/s  not  ui  i''  said  the  sol- 
dier to  the  servants,  "and  secure  window!'* 

The  Indian  was  borne  into  ihr  Luase;  every  one  followed, 
ftnd  doors  and  windows  were  secured. 

"  A  very  pretty  httle  scrimmage,"  said  the  soldier,  curhng 
his  huge  moustache  and  throwing  some  sticks  upon  the  fir^ 
•*  oughl  you  copper  colored  devil  1" 

And  he  pushed  the  body  of  the  Indian  with  his  foot. 

The  Captain  looked  at  laim  more  closely* 
2^ 


FAZETAX;  OB, 


Playing  dead/'  lie  said,  contemptuously. 

*  Oh  no  !  he's  dead,"  said  George,  "look  1  that  brand  haa 
rolled  against  his  foot !" 

"Bah!  that's  all  you  know,  master  George,"  said  th^ 
Captain.  ^ 

And  bending  over  the  Indian,  the  soldier  kicked  away  the 
brand,  and  said  "  speak  1" 

The  Indian  remained  motionless. 

"Well  if  you're  dead,  my  friend.  111  have  ycnr  scalp  I" 

And  the  Captain  seized  the  Indian  violently  by  the  lock  of 
hair  upon  the  top  of  his  head. 

The  eyes  opened  and  he  made  a  violent,  though  feeble 
effort  to  spring  up.  In  an  instant  the  Borderer  was  upon 
his  breast  and  his  hands  were  securely  tied. 

"  Now  speak,  you  copper-colored  devil,  or  you  are  a  dead 
man !  Speak  in  the  Delaware  1  I  know  you,  and  under- 
stand your  lingo !" 

And  bending  down,  the  Borderer  uttered  some  words  in 
the  tongue  of  the  Delaware. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  soldier  could  extract  anything 
from  the  Indian.    At  last  he  muttered  a  few  words. 

The  Captain  rose  satisfied. 

^*  Not  a  regular  inroad,"  he  said,  "  only  a  wandering  par- 
ty. I  gathered  that  from  the  lies  he  tells  me.  Now  my 
friends  be  good  enough  to  put  this  worthy  in  the  cellar  and 
double  lock  the  door,  first  tying  his  hands  securely.  Mj 
part  is  over,  and  I'll  sleep." 

His  direction  was  obeyed,  and  very  soon  the  Indian  cap- 
tive was  safe  in  the  vault  beneath,  where  Lord  Fairfax  kept 
his  liquors. 

No  one  retired  again.  By  common  consent  the  affrighted 
domestics  huddled  together  in  one  comer  of  the  apartment 
—and  the  visitors  arranged  easy-chairs  in  the  most  conven- 
ient manner  for  sleeping.  Soon  every  one  sank  into  un- 
easy slumbar — except  Captain  Wagner.  That  worthy's  ro- 
poee,  in  hiB  great  chair  before  the  fire,  was  as  deep  as  bef or6i 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREEKWAY  COURT. 


35 


From  time  to  time,  he  would  growl  and  grunt  it  is  true ;  but 
this  was  habitual  with  him. 

There  were  two  other  exceptions  to  the  above  statement, 
i'alconbridge  and  Miss  Argal  slept  neither  easily  nor  un- 
easily. They  conversed  in  a  low  tone  in  one  corner  of  the 
room : — when  the  first  rays  of  dawn  entered  the  apartment 
they  were  still  conversing  in  the  same  low  murmuring 
tones. 


THE  ESOAPS. 

HE  morning  brought  light  and  cheerfolnasi 
The  sleepers  aroused  themselves;  Miss  Argai  re- 
tired for  a  time,  to  make  her  toilet,  and  soon  all 
had  re-assembled  in  the  large  apartment  where  a 
plentiful  breakfast  was  smoking  upon  the  hospitable  board. 

Suppose  we  have  the  Injun  rascal  up,"  said  Captain 
Wagner.  "  I  think  the  sight  of  his  copper-colored  mug  will 
give  me  a  better  appetite/* 

And  every  one  acquiescing  in  this  suggestion,  the  Border* 
er  directed  several  of  the  servants  to  lead  up  the  prisoner. 
They  promptly  left  the  apartment^  and  Wagner  turned  tc 
Fjilconbridge. 

Do  you  know,  my  dear  comrade,"  he  said,    that  I  think 

yeu  are  the  pearl  of  gallants  ?" 

"  Pray,  how  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  smiling. 

"  Why,  you  came  so  promptly  to  Miss  Argal's  assistance 
last  night,  that  you  shamed  us  all,  companion." 

Falconbridge  smiled  again,  and  said  : 

"  I  deserve  no  praise.  Captain.  I  had  not  retired.  I  was 
sitting  at  the  window  thinking,  as  I  often  do — a  bad  habit  I 
confess — when  Miss  Argal  screamed.  To  go  to  hor  assist- 
ance was  surely  natural." 

"Dooms  naturall"  said  the  Capt  in,  pushing  up  hia 
black  moustache  ;  "  and  Miss  Bertha  needed  you." 

"  I — thought — it  was — father,'*  repHed  the  young  lady  col- 
oring. 

"Good,  good  I  We're  not  expected  to  see  in  the  dark,* 
was  the  Borderer's  sardonic  answer  ;    and  when  InjonA  are 


THE  BCASTER  OF  GREENWAY  GOUBT. 


87 


abont,  a  woman  may  run  into  the  arms  of  the  first  fighter 

she  sees — faith,  'twas  a  pretty  picture !" 

A  suppressed  flash  of  the  young  lady's  eye  seemed  to  ir  - 
dicate  that  she  discovered  in  these  words  something  more 
than  they  expressed  :  but  otherwise  she  betrayed  no  emo- 
tion. 

"Well,  well,"  added  the  Borderer,  "let  ns  think  of  the 
rascal  we  caught.  I'm  mistaken  if  we  don't  get  out  of  him 
the  real  meaning  of  this  Httle  scrimmage  in  the  dark—which 
I  think  was  a  wandering  party  only,  that  is  safe  a  score  oi 
miles  away  by  now  in  the  Southwest  Mountains." 

Old  John  appeared  at  the  door,  as  the  words  were  uttered 
— ^hifi  face  elongated,  his  eyes  full  of  meaning. 

"  "Where's  the  copper-colored  rattle-snake— the  serpent 
caied  Wagner. 

"Gone,  sirl  clean  gonel"  said  the  old  body  servant,  hold' 
ing  up  both  hands. 

Captain  Wagner  rose  with  sudden  energy,  and  hastened 
to  the  cellar,  followed  by  his  companions. 

"  Gone,  as  I'm  a  man  1"  he  cried,  twisting  his  moustache, 
"Look I  Falconbridge,  he  got  through  there,  the  snake  1" 

And  the  speaker  pointed  to  a  low  window  from  which  two 
rusty  iron  bars  had  been  wrested  by  main  force. 

"  He  managed  to  get  his  hands  loose,  and  by  this  time  is 
at  the  end  of  the  world.  I'm  a  hog  not  to  see  better  to  hisi 
tying  up  1" 

And  having  thus  unburdened  his  mind,  the  Captain  slowly 
retired  from  the  cellar,  shaking  his  head,  and  returned  to  the 
breakfast-room.  The  sight  of  the  smoking  meal  seemed  to 
restore  his  equanimity  ;  and  his  huge  nostrils  evidently  ex- 
perienced the  utmost  pleasure  in  snuffing  up  the  savory 
odor  of  the  rich  broils  and  hashes. 

"  Faith  I  something  yet  remains  1"  was  the  philosophic  re 
mark  of  the  worthy ;  "  life  is  not  gloomy  when  a  man  can 
eat  as  I  am  going  to.    Come  friends,  let  us  get  to  work  I" 

And  first  regaling  himself  with  a  huge  gulp  from  the  pun- 


w Aim  AX;  OB, 


gent  "  dram  *  which  old  John  had  concocted,  the  Borderer 

applied  himself  with  energy  to  the  business  before  him.  14 
was  a  spectacle  full  of  interest  to  see  the  piles  of  edibles  dis- 
appear before  him.  Not  until  almost  everything  had  fan- 
iahed  did  the  Captain  lean  back  in  his  chair,  like  a  son  oi 
Anak,  twist  his  moustache,  and  open  his  lips  for  the  pur 
pose  of  conversation. 

The  movements  of  the  entire  party  were  discussed,  an 
very  soon  every  one  had  determined  upon  his  plans  of  the 
day.  There  was  not  the  least  danger  of  any  attack  from  the 
Indians,  said  the  Captain,  in  broad  day,  out  of  the  woods  : 
but  his  intention  was  to  scour  the  surrounding  country,  and 
pick  up  every  detail.  George  declared  he  would  go  with 
him. 

And  T,"  said  Falconbridge,  "  shall  accompany  Miss 
Algal  as  far  as  her  home,  if  she  will  permit  me." 

I  shall  be  very  glad,"  said  the  young  lady,  looking  at  him 
with  her  strangely  fascinating  glance.  Then  casting  down 
her  eyes,  she  added,  "  but  pray  do  not  let  me  inconvenience 
you." 

"  *Tis  none,  I  assure  you,"  he  replied.  Captain  Wagner 
htia  spoken  to  me  of  a  certain  '  Van  Doring's  Ordinary '  in 
the  same  direction,  and  here  I  purpose  stopping  until  I  ar- 
range some  business  with  my  Lord  Fairfax." 

With  these  words,  Falconbridge  offered  his  hand  to  the 
young  lady  to  assist  her  in  mounting  her  horse,  which  stood 
ready  at  the  steps.  The  young  girl's  hand  was  ungloved 
like  his  own,  and — could  he  be  mistaken? — did  the  softj 
slender  fingers  press  and  cling  to  his  own,  as  if  she  would 
retain  the  hand  of  the  youth?  His  eyes  filled  with  sudden 
jdght,  and  mounting  his  glossy  white  i/hroughbred,  he  can- 
tered off  joyfully  by  the  side  of  the  young  iady  Mr  Argal 
following  more  leisurely  upon  his  cob. 

"  What  a  noble  face  I"  said  George,  looking  aftei  them 
**  Do  you  know.  Captain,  that  I  can't  help  loving  hin  ^ 

•*Whof  Falconbridge  r 


THE  MASTER  Of  GREENWAY  OOUBTi  39 

w  Yea — thoagh  I've  known  him  less  than  a  day.* 

"  Well,  you*re  right.    'Tis  as  fine  a  head  as  ever  I  saw  on 

human  shoulders.    There's  only  one  fault  I  can  see  in  it — 

not  enough  of  gray  hairs." 
"  Gray  hairs !" 

"  Yes,  my  young  friend  ;  he's  too  grand  and  true  and  un 
suspecting.  All  that  won't  ans-wer  in  this  miserable  world, 
that's  fuU  of  snakes,  Injuns,  rascals,  and  deception.  Don't 
ask  me  what  I  mean — I  never  mean  anything.  Let  us  rath- 
er take  a  drink  of  this  fine  October  air,  that  is  better  by  far 
Cihan  twenty  year  old  Jamaica,  or  I'm  a  dandy !" 

And  the  Borderer  inhaled  the  breezy  atmosphere,  drink- 
ing in  life  at  every  pore  His  eye  wandered  over  the  great 
landscape  of  prairie,  forest,  mountain,  and  river,  variegated 
by  the  shadows  of  vast  floating  clouds  ;  and  his  whole  face 
glowed  with  pleasure. 

"His  lordship's  got  a  splendid  country  here,  friend 
George,"  he  said  :  "  I  envy  him  the  look  he's  taking  at  it 
now." 

Lord  Fairfax?* 

"Yes,  he's  in  the  mountams  yonder,  'upMng,i3LS  the  wortny 
John  says — is  this  good  Baron  of  Cameron,  and  Earl  of 
Fairfax.  When  we  shall  see  him,  the  devil  only  knows.  He's 
a  perfect  Nimrod,  a  wild  Injun  on  the  trail  of  game,  a  real 
iron  fellow,  or  Fm  a  dandy.  I  expect  him  back  at  Christmaa 
—not  before!'* 

A  sonorous  neigh  arrested  the  Captain's  remarks,  and  two 
servants  led  up  "Injunhater"  and  George's  sorrel.  They 
were  soon  in  the  saddle,  and  the  Borderer  paused  only  to 
give  old  John  his  parting  injunctions. 

"  Tell  my  Lord  Fairfax,  if  he  comes  back  before  dinner, 
that  I'm  coming  too — ^Injuns  and  wild  beasts  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding.  Also  friend  George,  who  rides  with  me. 
And  hark  you,  John,  have  up  some  of  that  old  Jamaica  that  wq 
know  about — and  one  of  the  old  hams,  a  round  of  beef  some 


40 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


fowls,  and  other  trifles.  You  know  I'm  one  of  the  family — 
good  day,  my  friend." 

And  leaving  old  J  ohn  bowing  hospitably  and  respectfully 
the  companions  set  forward. 

We  shall  not  accompany  them,  as  nothing  in  the  shape  of 
an  adventure  befell  them.  After  a  wide  circuit  around  the 
Greenway  Court  domain,  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  wandering  party  of  Indians  had  hastily  fled  from  the  re- 
gion into  the  western  mountains.  They  accordingly  re- 
turned to  Greenway  to  dinner,  and  rest.  The  Earl  had  not 
made  his  appearance — nor  had  Falconbridge. 


THB  KkfflEB  07  GKEENWAT  OOURL 


41 


YL 

0APTiJ3i  L0NGKNIFE*8  PBIVATB  MATTEBSU 

N  the  next  morning,  Captain  Wagner  and  George 
were  again  in  the  saddle — but  this  time  they  had 
determined  to  take  diflFerent  routes.  The  young 
man  wished  to  explore  the  wonders  of  the  prai- 
rie toward  the  South  ;  the  Borderer's  design  was  to  visit 
Ms  friends  at  the  Ordinary  which  Falconbridge  had  selected 
for  a  stopping-place. 

"I'll  go  swill  some  Jamaica  with  Van  Doring/'  said  the 

worthy  Captam,  "  and  you,  George  ?  ^towaid  the  Fort 

Mountain  ?" 

"  Yes  I    It  seems  to  draw  me,  it  is  so  beautiful  I" 
"Good!  how  your  eyes  do  sparkle  1  Youth  I  youth  1  what 

91  fine  thing  it  is  :  like  a  fresh  horse  with  a  fail  feed  I  But 

look  oat  for  the  Injuna" 
"Tm  not  afraid.'* 

"I  see  that  plainly,  and  youVe  got  a  proud-looking  head 
there,  George,  my  son.  Don't  let  *em  scalp  you.  I  assure 
you,  on  my  honor,  it  will  ruin  your  appearance  for  life." 

And  saluting  wi^h  his  hand,  the  gigantic  warrior  set  for- 
ward on  his  heavy  black  chargei  toward  Van  Doring's. 

The  Ordinary  wa,s  but  a  few  miles  from  Greenway,  and  the 
pai'tisan,  advancing  rapidly  through  the  tall  grass  of  the 
prairie,  and  beneath  the  drooping  boughs  of  the  forest,  waa 
not  long  in  reaching  his  destination. 

It  was  one  of  those  large,  oddly-fashioned  tayems  which 
are  still  found  at  Virginia  cross  roads.  This  one  was  tba 


42 


FAHtFAX;  OB, 


half- way  liotise,  so  to  speak,  between  the  Lowland  and  the 
Frontier.  It  was  constructed  of  hewn  logs,  the  interstices  of 
which  were  filled  with  rough  plaster ,  in  front  extended  a 
long  rude  porch ;  before  the  door  was  a  horse  rack  and 
drinking  trough. 

As  Captain  Wagner  drew  near  he  perceived  standing  ai 
the  door  a  sort  of  covered  wagon,  which  seemed  to  have  aiv 
rived  but  a  few  moments  before.  He  was  looking  at  it  care- 
lessly, when  all  at  once  Falconbridge  issued  from  the  tavern, 
and  courteously  offered  his  hand  to  a  buxom  dame  who  waa 
on  the  point  of  getting  out  of  the  vehicle. 

"La!  thank  you,  sir,"  said  a  simpering  and  complaisant 
voice,  which  made  Captain  Wagner  suddenly  start :  but  this 
start  was  of  so  ambiguous  a  character  that  it  was  not  plain 
whether  the  soldier's  emotion  sprang  from  surprise,  pleasure, 
or  dissatisfaction.  But  immediately  the  Captain  threw  himself 
from  Injunhater,  whose  bridle  a  stable  boy  received  ;  and 
before  the  lady,  with  Falconbridge's  assistance  in  front,  and 
that  of  a  travelling  companion  behind,  could  emerge  from 
the  vehicle,  the  gallant  Captain  had  received  into  his  own 
the  hand  yet  imappropriated,  and  kissed  it  with  chivalrio 
courtesy  and  devout  respect. 

Falconbridge  turned  his  head  and  saw  his  companion. 

"Good-morrow,  Captain,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

The  buxom  lady,  finding  her  hand  in  contact  with  a 
bearded  hp,  and  pressed  by  pahns  of  martial  strength,  ut- 
tered a  little  affected  cry  and  raised  her  modestly  down- 
cast eyea 

"Captain  Wagner!"  she  said,  with  an  exhibition  of  great 
irarprise:  "Captain  Wagner!" 

"At  your  service  a  thousand  times,  madam,"  said  th« 
Borderer,  "now  and  ever,  or  may  the  devil — hum!  How  do 
I  find  you  here,  madam  ?" 

The  portly  dame  descended  from  her  vehicle,  smiling  on 
the  Captain  and  the  Stranger,  and  sending  backward  a  Par- 
thian glance  at  every  moment  to  her  companion  who  had 


THB  MAflTEB  OF  QBEENWAT  COTOl 


43 


not  yet  descended.  Her  eyes  were  well  adapted  to  this 
species  of  employment,  as  they  were  brit/ht  ud  cheerful,  and 
her  whole  face  was  equally  good-humored. 

She  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  about  tliirty-i^  .j,  and  was  clad 
in  a  fashion  rather  more  gaudy  than  tasteful. 

Her  companion  was  a  little  dried-up  Frenchman,  dres^e  ' 
in  a  worn-out  Court  suit  of  the  fashion  of  the  time,  and  haT 
ing  on  his  head  a  cocked  hat.  He  seemed  to  be  in  an  agon; 
of  perplexity  whether  to  drop  the  reins,  a  band-box  and  t 
shawl  which  he  held  in  his  right  hand,  or  an  old  black  vioJiri 
which  he  carried  carefully  in  his  left. 

The  lady  ran  forward  with  quite  girlish  vivacity  to  greet 
an  old  fat  German,  who  at  the  moment  emerged  from 
the  Ordinary  ;  and  then  with  a  shower  of  backward  glances 
more  bright  than  ever,  which  glances  were  directed  towai^ds 
Captain  Wagner  and  his  companion,  entered  the  tavern, 
closely  followed  by  her  shawl-carrying,  much  perplexed 
French  body-guard.  Having  reached  the  landlord's  side, 
she  clasped  the  old  German  so  tightly  that  he  found  it  ut- 
terly impossible  to  greet  Wagner  in  any  other  manner  than 
with  the  two  sonorous  words — *'W"ell,  GaptainT' 

The  Captain  stood  for  a  moment  looking  after  her,  with 
an  expression  of  amazement  seldom  seen  upon  his  martial 
features. 

For  once  in  his  life  he  seemed  to  be  taken  completely  by 
surprise  ;  and  hesitated  before  he  followed  the  enemy. 

"  Who  would  have  dreamed  it!"  he  said,  pushing  up  his 
shaggy  moustache;  "she  was  Miss — beautiful  ]VIiss — Yan 
Doring  before  espousing  the  lamented  Butterton  down  yon- 
derl" 

And  a  sort  of  chuckle  shook  the  stalwart  breast  of  the 
Borderer. 

"Well,  well!    Luck  has  declared  for  me!"  he  muttered 
•*rm  losing  time." 
"  Lose  a  moment  more  with  me,  Captain,"  said  Falcon 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


brid^  ;  and  laying  his  hand  upon  the  Borderer's  shonlclex 

he  added,  "  What  a  noble  morning !" 

The  Borderer  shook  the  hand  of  the  young  man  cordially 
and  said : 

"  Glori  JUS  1    comrade  :  really  amazing  is  this  splendid 
morning — and  faith  I  on  my  word  I    I  think  you  suit  it  I" 
how  is  that?" 

"  Whjy  you  are  as  bright  and  jolly  as  the  sunshine." 
Falconbridge  laughed,  stretched  himself,  and  yawned. 
"I  am  fresh  enough,"  he  rephed,  "  and  you  seem  not  at  all 
fatigued." 

"  Fatigued!  I  beheve  you,  comrade.  A  pretty  thing  for 
an  old  dog  like  myself,  that  has  grown  to  the  saddle, — whose 
legs  are  getting  crooked,  faith  1  on  that  account — to  talk 
about  fatigue !  But  let  us  dismiss  the  subject  of  legs.  You 
are  stopping  here  ?" 

Yes,  tiU  I  see  Lord  Fairfax." 
^  "  Well,  you'll  have  a  pleasant  lady  guest.** 

"  This  lady  ?    What  is  her  name  ?" 

The  Captain  looked  cunning,  and  hesitated  before  answer- 
ing this  query. 

"  Come,"  added  Falconbridge, "  am  I  not  to  know  who  the 
lady  is — her  simjjle  name  ?" 

"  I  doubt  whether  it  would  be  politic  for  me  to  tell  you, 
comrade,"  said  the  Captain,  shaking  his  head. 

Falconbridge  laughed. 

"Pohtic?    How  so?" 

"  I  would  have  necessarily  to  enlarge  upon  her  character, 
her  loveliness,  her  advantages,  as  the  miserable  cant  is — her 
desirabilities :  her  thousand  claims  to  regard,  respect  and 
3idmiration  1" 

*'Ah  ?"  lauoflied  the  young  man  ;  "well,  why  not?" 

The  Captain  sliook  his  head. 
You're  a  dooms  good  looking  fellow,"  he  said. 

"Oh  r— 

The  truths  comrade  ;  and  if  you  add  to  this  the  fact  tlot 


THE  KASTEB  07  aBESSTWAT  00T7BT. 


46 


you  seem  to  have  much  time  on  your  hands  at  present — by 
which  I  mean  that  your  business  does  not  seem  prescing — 
the  motive  for  my  caution  will  be  plain/* 
The  motive,  eh 

"Tou  might  fall  in  love  with  this  fair  widow  Butterton-— 
my  pleasant  acquaintance  down  in  the  town  of  Belhaven, 
which  I'm  told  they  are  going  to  dub  Alexandria,  where  1 
came  from.    See,  now,  Fve  let  the  whole  thing  slip  out." 

And  Captain  Wagner  pretended  to  regard  his  conduct 
with  supreme  contempt.  Falconbridge  only  laughed  and 
said  ; 

"  I  beheve  you  are  in  love,  eh,  Captain  ?  "Well,  I  wish  you 
good  luck." 

His  companion  groaned. 

"  There's  no  such  thing  for  me,  comrade.  I'm  defeated, 
repulsed,  driven  off  ignominiously !" 

"  You  have  paid  your  addresses  to  the  fair  widow  and 
failed  r 

"  Something  like  it.  I  really  believe  that  you  have  guessed 
the  state  of  things  to  a  hair.  I  thought  from  the  first,  Fal- 
conbridge, that  you  were  a  man  of  discrimination." 

"  And  this  is  really  so  ?"  laughed  the  young  man,  amused 
by  the  Borderer's  lugubrious  expression ;  you  have  really 
proposed  and  been  discarded  ?" 

"  Precisely,  my  friend,  precisely :  you  have  guessed 
rightly.  Yes  !  I  was  overcome,  subjugated,  compelled  to  lay 
down  my  arms  :  ignominiously,  miserably, — I,  who  have 
Hved  in  the  midst  of  battles,  who  have  heard  the  cohorns 
roaring  from  year's  end  to  year's  end — the  muskets  rattling 
here,  on  the  border,  everywhere  ;  I  who  have  married  twice, 
and  each  time  paragons  of  women  !  I  thought  I  knew  the 
sex  tolerably  well,  and  I  was  mistaken.  Vain  thought  for 
any  man  to  imagine  he  has  found  the  key  of  woman  !  Open 
one  lock,  a^nother,  then  another,  the  next  one  baffles  all  your 
skill,  defies  all  your  cunning — which  word  I  use  in  its  ancient 
and  oommendable  sense — ^laughs  at  all  your  exertionsi  1^  in- 


FAIRFAX;  tm, 


ieed,  locks  erer  laugh..  And  now  I  was  that  benighted  in* 
dividual ;  I  thought  I  knew  their  wards,  and  springs,  and 
windings,  and  turnings  :  I  was  mistaken  ;  and  here  I  am  a 
mortified  and  humbled  man,  or  if  not  that,  a  beaten  man  at 
least,  or  may  the — hum !  no  swearing  V* 

**  Come,  Captain/'  replied  Falconbridge,  who  with  difficul- 
ty refrained  from  laughing,  so  melancholy  were  the  tones  of 
the  soldier's  voice,  "better  luck  next  time  I  You  have  a  fine 
opportunity  to  make  up  your  losses." 

"  I  find  I  have,  indeed." 

'*  Avail  yourself  of  it." 

'*  I  will,"  said  the  Borderer,  with  great  cheerfulness. 

**  As  to  finding  a  rival  in  me,  you  need  not  have  any  team 
on  that  point,  Captain,"  said  Falconbridge,  laughing.  "I'm 
on  the  wing — soon  pass.  In  a  month  I  will  not  only  be 
gone,  but  forgotten." 

" Faith!  no." 

"No,  what?" 

"TouTl  not  be  forgotten.  For  111  remember  you,  com- 
rade, as  one  of  the  most  gallant-looking  fellows  I  ever 
knew." 

Falconbridge  laughed  again  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  You  are  determined  to  make  me  a  partisan  of  yours, 
Captain,"  he  said. 

"  No,  not  at  all !  I  like  you,  my  dear  comrade,  and  I  can't 
conceal  my  thought.  If  I'm  angry  I  growl ;  if  I'm  pleased 
I  laugh — ^I  conceal  nothing  because  I  can't,  faith !  No  :  don't 
fear  Captain  Longknife,  who,  whatever  may  be  his  faults — 
and  he  has  a  few — is  not  the  man  to  flatter.  If  you  fear  any- 
body, let  it  be  the  man  or  the  woman  who  smiles  on  you,  and 
holds  out  a  friendly  hand,  while  the  other  is  under  his  or 
her  cloak,  clutching  the  knife  that  will  stab  you  I" 

And  the  Borderer  for  a  moment  looked  gloomy. 

As  to  Falconbridge,  he  laughed  gaily  at  this  ominous 
speech,  and  playing  with  his  rich  swordhilt  said  carelessly  : 
Fm  not  afraid,  and  I  think  two  can  play  at  the  catting 


THE  MISTEB  OP  GREENWAY  OOUKT. 


game  I  Nevertheless,  thanks,  Captain,  for  the  interest  yon  ] 
feel.  I  am  going  now  to  a  different  sort  of  combat — to  en-  1 
oonnter  perhaps  a  more  dangerous  enemy." 

And  Falconbridge  with  a  laugh  looked  westward. 
"  I  know  you  are,**  said  Wagner,  gazing  at  his  companion  \ 
wistfully.  I 
"There  comes  Sir  John,  as  fresh  as  a  dew  drop."  j 
"  A  fine  animal  :  and  you  are  going,  I  don't  doubt  ** —  \ 
"To  see  the  fair  Miss  Bertha?  Yes,  indeed.  What  a  ■] 
Bplendid  beauty  1" 

'  Yes,  very  splendid  :  remember  what  1  said  just  now." 
"What  did  you  say?"  \ 
"I  said  beware  of  smiles;  distrust  the  hand  thrust  into 
your  own ;  take  care  of  the  knife !" 

And  refusing  to  say  another  word,  the  Captain  with  a  sul- 
len movement  of  his  head  went  into  the  house,  his  fore-  | 
head  bent  thoughtfully  toward  the  ground  and  overshad*  ( 
owed. 

Falconbndge  stood  looking  at  him  for  a  moment  in  si- 
lence, and  then  laughing  silently,  nodded  his  head  upward 
and  downward  with  the  muttered  words  :  \ 

"Yes,  yes!  a  queer  genius — a  great  dreamer !  The 'smile,  j 
the  '  knife  ' — *  take  care  of  them  !'  Oh  yes !  he  jests  with  me ; 
but  he's  a  good  comrade  and  I  Wvu't  complain.   Good  mom  }. 
ing,  good  Sir  John!    A  fair  sunshine  for  us,  and  I  hope  you  { 
are  refreshed.    Ho!  comrade!"  < 

And  the  young  man  vaulted  into  the  saddle  laughing.  He  ; 
gathered  up  the  reins,  threw  a  coin  to  the  respectful  hostler,  \ 
and  set  forward  gaily  toward  th«  west.  ] 

"What  an  oddity,  the  Captain!"  he  added,  "with  hit 
knives  and  warnings!     Forward,  Sir  John!  we  are  ex-  j 
pected  1" 

And  he  put  spur  to  the  fine  animal,  who  set  forward  more 
rapiUy  than  before.  i 


46 


FAIBVAX;  OB. 


m 

THE  CAPTAIN  RENEWS  THE  ATTACK. 

ilPTADT  WAGNER  entered  the  Or  iinary  shak- 
ing his  head  mysteriously,  but  his  reflections  were 
all  at  once  banished  by  the  sight  of  the  fair  Mrs. 
Butterton,  who  was  seated  gracefully  upon  a 
cane-bottomed  chair,  conversing.  The  Captain  joined  in  the 
conversation  with  an  easy  air,  and  soon  the  visit  of  the 
lady  to  the  Valley  became  the  topic.  The  explanation  was 
simple.  The  settlers  of  the  region,  Lord  Fairfax  at  the 
head  of  them,  had  determined  to  organize  a  county  gov- 
ernment ;  and  the  question  at  the  moment  was,  the  locahty 
of  the  county-seat.  For  this  honor,  the  two  microscopic  vil- 
lages of  Stephensburg  and  Winchester  were  candidates ; 
and  as  Mrs.  Butterton  chanced  to  possess  a  number  of  lots  in 
and  about  Winchester,  she  was  naturally  desirous  that  their 
value  should  be  enhanced  by  the  selection  of  that  place  for 
the  seat  of  government. 

The  fair  widow  concluded  her  sensible  explanation  by 
taking  from  a  reticule,  which  hung  jauntily  upon  her  arm,  a 
number  of  documents,  which  she  gracefully  banded  to  the 
Borderer. 

Captain  Wagner  looked  at  the  papera  and  pondered  ;  then 
pushing  up  his  martial  moustache,  he  said  to  the  widow  : 

"I  admire  your  business  talent,  my  dear  madam  ;  what  a 
mte  you  would  make  !  what  an  admirable  wife  1  I  shall  re- 
commend my  friends  to  come  and  mfike  themselves  agreea* 
ble." 

*LaI  Captain,  you  are  jesting/'  said  the  lady,  covering 
her  face  affectedly  with  her  fan. 


THE  MASTER  O?  otEEENWAT  OOUBT. 


*  Jesting?    Jest  on  such  a  subject — ^neverl** 
"Ton  are  a  sad  joker  I" 

"Not  with  you.'* 
"Why  not  with  me?" 

"I  know  not,  my  dear  madam,  except  it  been  aoeonntol 
that  high  respect  I  have  for  you." 
"Flatterer!" 

"  That  friendship,  that  regard — that,  I  may  say,  hum- 
that,  yes,  that " — 

Captain  Wagner  finished  the  sentence  with  a  look  which 
spoke  volumes.    The  widow  fairly  blushed. 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  daughter  and  Qaptain?" 
said  the  old  German,  coming  up,  "not  fell  out,  I  hope." 

"Oh,  far  from  it,  father!"  said  Mrs.  Butterton,  laughing. 

*She  is  a  great  rattle-drap  at  times.  Gap  tain,"  continued 
the  landlord,  "and  full  of  all  sorts  of  notions.  Here  ia 
Moimseer  Jambo,  for  instance — come  here  to  deach  danc- 
ing." 

"  He  is  a  fine  artist,  father,**  said  Mrs.  Butterton. 
"Hum!"  said  Captain  Wagner,  "he  seems  to  be  your  par- 
ticular friend." 

*  Oh,  yes — he  is  a  very  gallant  gentleman.'* 

Captain  Wagner  scowled  at  Monsieur  Auguste  Hypolite 
Jambot,  and  that  gentleman  chancing  at  the  moment  to 
raise  his  eyes,  was  nearly  struck  motionless  by  the  look. 

Indeed,  Captain  Wagner  was  a  disagreeable  man  to  have 
for  an  enemy,  so  large  of  hmb,  and  terrible  in  arms  was  he  ; 
and  his  scowl  was  one  of  horrible  expressiveness.  He 
looked  sword,  pistol  and  blunderbuss  at  the  very  least 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  Monsieur  Jambot  is  gallant,  mad- 
am," said  he;  "thiii  he  has  proved  by  condescending  to 
accompany  you  hither." 

"  Come,  you  look  at  Monsieur  Auguste  as  if  you  did  not 
Kke  him,"  said  Mrs.  Butterton. 

**Not  like  him,  madam?"  said  Captain  Wagner,  bringing 

8 


60 


down  his  great,  gloved  hand  on  the  table;  ''that's  trael  I 

do  not  like  Frenchmen.*' 

"And  I"  said  Monsieur  Jambot,  rising  and  bristling  ap 
at  these  words,  "I  do  not  like,  no,  I  have  no  liking  fo* 
capitaines,  begar  V* 

Captain  Wagner  touched  his  sword  instinctively,  but  re- 
flecting that  a  quarrel,  and  combat  with  so  diminutive  a 
gentleman,  and  on  so  slight  a  provocation,  was  out  of  the 
quesiion,  withdrew  his  hand,  and  only  scowled  again  on 
Monsieur  Jambot. 

Having  thus  terminated  the  conversation  as  far  as  the 
dancing-master  was  concerned,  Captain  "Wagner  turned, 
with  great  good  humor  and  cheerfulness,  to  Mrs.  Butterton, 
who  had  counterfeited  excessive  trepidation:  but  who,  see- 
ing matters  thus  amicably  arranged,  was  again  all  smiles. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  he,  "  the  sight  of  you  to-day  has 
rejoiced  me — and  you  were  right  in  telling  me  your  busi- 
ness.   I  shall  assist  you  in  that  business:  I  will,  madam  !" 

"  La !  thank  you.  Captain,"  said  the  lady. 

"I  will,  madam,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  solemnly.  "I 
pledge  you  my  word  that  Winchester  shall,  on  your  account, 
be  the  seat  of  Justice  of  the  county  of  Frederick." 

The  widow  regarded  Captain  Wagner  with  a  tender 
glance; — not  so  much  in  return  for  his  promised  services — 
to  do  her  justice  be  it  said, — as  in  requital  of  his  devotedness. 

"  For  your  sake,"  said  the  Captain,  in  a  tone  inaudible  to 
the  rest  of  the  company,  "I  would  do  far  nore." 

"You  are  very  disinterested.  Captain,"  murmured  the 
lady. 

"  Disinterested?  Not  so,  faith  I"  said  the  Borderer;  "  re- 
member what  I  say  I" 

And  having  overwhelmed  the  fair  widow  by  this  unmis- 
takable avowal,  Captain  Longknife  directed  another  scowl, 
far  more  terrible  than  the  former  ones,  at  Monsieur  Jambot 
v^ho  was  still  tuning  his  fiddle;  and  turned  the  conversatioQ 
npoin  indiffisrent  topies. 


THE  MASTEtl  OF  GREEKWAY  COURT. 


51 


The  lady  smiled,  the  old  German  smoked,  the  dancing- 
master  meditated  a  solo,  or  frowned  with  lofty  dignity  at  his 
rival. 

Thus  some  hours  passed,and  then  the  Captain, pleading 
business  with  Lord  Fairfax,  took  his  departure. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  say,  that  like  a  stalwart  soldier, 
the  huge  Enceladus  had  returned  unterrified  to  the  attack, 
with  better  knowledge  of  the  enemy  he  assaulted,  and  a 
fixed  determination  to  be  victor  in  the  struggle. 


FAIRFAX  ;  OB. 


vm. 

HOW  GEORGE  WAB  LED  BY  PBOVIDENOB. 

ET  US  now  return  to  George,  who,  aa  the  reader 
will  find,  m-^t  with  more  adventures  in  hi»  ride 
than  he  expected. 

The  boy  stood  watching  Captain  Wagner  until 
that  worthy  and  his  ebon  steed  were  swallowed  by  the  bright 
October  ioliage;  and  then  mounting  his  handsome  sorrel 
left  f^reenway  Court,  and — happy,  laaghing,  joyous  with 
that  rare  roseate  joy  of  youth  and  inexperience,  and  confi- 
dence— ^went  forth  toward  the  South,  over  the  swaying, 
splendid  prairie,  and  through  the  brilliant  forest. 

Poor  words ! — for  what  words  can  describe  the  forejits  of 
the  Shenandoab  Valley  in  October? — what  painter,  even^ 
though  he  stood  in  stature  above  Titian,  and  the  masters  of 
all  time,  could  place  upon  the  canvas  the  resplendent  glories 
of  this  noble  season  ?  Not  a  mere  thoughtless  rhapsody  is 
this — for  in  the  heart  of  him  who  writes,  a  thousand  Au- 
tumn scenes  hVe,  like  memories  of  youth,  beautiful  and 
brilliant  with  the  glories  of  the  "jocund  prime"  of  exist- 
ence!— so  beautiful  that,  remembering  them  now,  in  daysi 
not  so  bright,  he  is  thankful  for  the  treasure  given  him,  and 
living  in  his  recollections,  cares  not  for  the  present. 

George  was  still  in  that  brilliant  land  of  youtli— -with 
senses  open  to  i'Js  glories  and  dehghts;  and  so  he  went  on 
joyfully,  and  gladly,  through  the  golden  morning,  drinking 
in  at  every  pore,  thi  splendors  of  the  Autumn. 

It  was  one  of  those  mornings  which  seem  to  come  like  9 
blessing  on  the  earth:  when  the  azure  sky,  piled  up  with 
9DOwy  clouds,  droops  down  upon  a  world  of  beauty  ;  wboQ 


THE  MASTEE  Off  GBEEKWAY  OOURT.  53 


the  cool  breath  of  joyful  winds  sweeps  across  hill  and  val- 
ley, with  a  murmurous  laughter,  as  of  myriads  of  merry 
goblins,let  loose  for  a  holiday,and  reveling  in  their  freedom. 
The  variegated  foliage  of  the  waving  forest,  like  the  banners 
of  every  nation  met  in  leaguer  around  the  battlements  of 
the  noble  mountains,  shone  in  the  clear  sunlight,  and  the 
rich  prairie  waved  its  gorgeous  flowers  from  end  to  end  of 
the  great  valley. 

To  George,  the  Autumn  did  not  present  an  aspect  of 
mournfulness  or  decay:  rather  of  full-handed,  ripe,  and 
matured  beauty  His  eye  dwelt  with  delight  upon  the 
forest,  with  its  magical  colors;  his  roving  and  bright  glances 
penetrated  the  white,  delicate  mist  which,  clearly  relieved 
against  the  mountain,  lay,hke  a  milky  cloud  along  the  wind- 
ing river: — the  boy's  heart  filled  with  youthful  joy  and 
romance. 

As  he  approached  the  mountain,  the  blue  gi-adiuilly 
changed  to  green;  the  undefined  shadowy  giants  stood  out 
in  bolder  relief,  with  rocky  shoulders,  and  belts  of  haughty 
pines; — and  then,  after  an  hour's  rapid  riding  straight  on, 
he  had  approached  so  near,  that  it  seemed  to  him  an  easy 
thing  to  push  his  horse  up  the  slope,  and  gain  the  inviting 
summit.  George  had,  however,  yet  to  learn  that  nothing  is 
more  deceptive  than  the  apparent  distance  between  the 
beholder  and  the  great  towering  sentinel  of  Nature.  He 
was  yet  a  considerable  distance  from  the  mountain,  and  in 
his  path  lay  an  obstacle  not  to  be  despised — the  tree-fringed 
river. 

As  George  drew  near  the  river,  and  went  along  under  the 
bright  foliage  of  the  lofty  trees,  a  thousand  woodland  sighta 
and  sounds  were  around  him.  On  the  prairie  the  land- 
scape was  wild  and  undisturbed;  ho  had  heard  no  sound, 
but  tie  far  resounding  cry  of  the  crane  as  he  rose  from  some 
streamlet's  bed;  had  seen  nothing  but  such  air-wanderera 
as  swept  the  blue  sky  on  long  stately  wings,  far  up  among 
the  oloudB  — fo"  the  most  part  all  was  still,  and  calmi  and 


M 


msit  as  rmdisturbed  as  the  landscape  untoucked  as  f  et  hj 
the  foot  of  man. 

But  now  all  was  changed;  the  forest  seemed  inetincfc  with 
life,  and  joy,  and  beauty.  Long  vines  fell  in  bright  festoong 
from  the  trees,  and  ii  these  vines  did  not  exhale  the  deHcate 
perfume  with  which  they  flooded  the  forests  in  May  morn- 
ings, they  still  were  beautiful  \*  ith  their  flaunting  garlands 
and  fantastic  outlines. 

The  pines  were  full  of  whisperings,  as  though  the  moun- 
tain wind  would  never  have  done  telling  them  its  secreta 
The  oaks,  yellow  and  taa.  The  dogwood  brilliant  with  its 
crimson  clustering  berries.  The  alder-tree,  like  safliron. 
and  the  hickory,  yellow,  but  still  strong,  and  graceful  as  a 
youthful  giant — all  were  full  of  life  and  motion,  and  the 
voice  of  birds. 

At  distant  openings  the  young  man  caught  sight  of  more 
than  one  flying  deer,  and  on  the  far  mountain-side  he  saw 
distinctly  a  herd  of  huge  elk  galloping,  as  is  their  wont,  into 
the  verdiu'ous,  undiscovered  depths  of  the  deep  glens. 

As  he  approached  the  sloping  bank  of  the  river,  an  otter 
showed  his  brown  nose,  and  bead-like  eyes,  then  dived, 
making  circles  as  he  disappeared  in  the  bright  water;  and 
at  the  noise  a  flock  of  wild  geese,  who  had  been  feeding  in 
the  tall  flags,  rose  up  with  a  shrill  clanging  scream,  and 
soared  away,  far  into  the  bright  clouds,  on  snowy  wings, 
toward  the  South. 

George  reined  up  his  horse  and  gazed  with  dehghted  eyes 
on  the  tranquil  stream,  whose  surface,  scarce  broken  into 
ripples  by  the  gentle  wind,  mirrored  the  drooping  boughs 
of  the  crimson  and  golden-leafed  trees,  and  white  floating 
clouds.  The  woodland  sights  and  sounds  dehghted  him — 
the  freshness  and  wild  grace  of  the  fair  nook  with  its  green 
grass,  and  tree-trunks  and  fresh  water,  charmed  him;  —never 
had  he  seen  so  beautiful  a  landscape. 

As  he  sat  quietly  in  his  saddle,  gazing  at  the  bright  watfiTi 
trmk  which,  at  intervals,  the  "  fall  flab  "  leaped  into  the  airj 


miR  MASTEE  OF  iJREENWAY  COURTL  66 


his  attention  was  attracted  by  a  figure  upon  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river,  which  at  this  point  was  not  very  wide. 
This  figure  was  that  of  a  girl  of  about  fiiteen,  who  waft  evi- 
dently gathering  flowers. 

For  the  purpose  of  reaching  the  water-blossoms,  growing 
far  down  in  the  shady  nooks,  near  the  sin-face  of  the  stream, 
she  stooped  very  carelessly  over — so  carelessly  at  times,  tha 
Gteorge,  who,  unseen  himself  amid  the  foliage,  was  watching 
her,  feared  every  moment  that  her  foot  would  slip,  and  she 
would  be  precipitated  into  the  stream.  I  ut  the  little 
maiden  took  her  way  along  the  steep  and  dangerous  bank 
with  the  care  and  skill  of  one  practiced  in  roadside  wander- 
ing; and  her  basket  was  soon  full  of  fall  flowers,  which  she 
paused  to  gaze  at  with  evident  satisfaction. 

The  boy  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  as  she  stood  in  the 
sunlight — glad  to  have  seen  this  ixe^h  woodland  picture. 
He  then  turned  the  head  of  his  horse,  dismissed  the  little 
maiden  fi'om  his  mind  with  a  careless  conjecture  as  to  her 
presence  in  that  wild  scene,  and  gazing  at  the  clouds,  was 
about  to  continue  his  way.  As  he  touched  his  horse  with 
the  spur,  a  cry  suddenly  resounded  in  his  ears — a  cry  oi 
alarm  and  helplessness — and  wheeling  round,  he  saw  at  one 
rapid  glance  that  his  fears  had  been  realized. 

The  little  maiden  had  boldly  ventured  out  upon  a  large, 
moss-covered  log,  at  the  end  of  which  grew  a  magnificent 
cluster  of  yellow  primroses;  and  this  log  having  turned,  she 
had  lost  her  footing. 

When  George  saw  her  she  was  just  losing  her  btdance; 
and  her  cry  of  terror  scarcely  reached  his  ears,  when  she 
dropped  her  basket,  and  fell  into  the  stream. 

George  was  one  of  those  persons  who  never  hesitate  or 
lose  their  presence  of  mind — whom  no  sudden  surpriBe 
affects. 

The  gill  had  scarcely  touched  the  water  before  the  boy 
with  a  violent  stroke  of  the  spur,  had  driven  his  horse  ixit< 
the  river,  and  was  svdmmlog  vigorously  and  rapidly  toward 


M 


rintfAX;  oft, 


EL 

HOW  GBOBaS  MADB  THE  AOQUAINTAJlOB  OF  OANHOL 

HE  girl  seemed  to  feel  that  a  friend  was  conuQij 
to  her  rescue,  for  her  head  was  turned  even  in 
the  midst  of  her  struggle  against  the  watery 
death  which  threatened  her,  toward  the  boy. 
Her  garments  at  first  afforded  her  some  support,  and 
George  thought  he  could  easily  reach  her;  but  this  hope 
began  to  disappear,  and  his  trembling  lips  and  flushed  face 
showed  his  desperate  anxiety.  His  eyes  burned,  and  lean- 
ing forward  on  his  animal,  he  devoured  the  sinking  form 
with  his  looks,  and  struck  the  animal  with  his  hand  to  has- 
ten its  speed. 

Before  he  had  arrived  within  twenty  yards  of  the  young 
girl,  the  water  began  rapidly  to  fill  her  clothing,  and  thus 
to  add  its  own  weight  to  the  weight  of  her  body.  She  grad- 
ually sank  lower  and  lower;  her  long,  chestnut  hair  rested 
on  the  water,  and  the  waves  toyed  with  it. 

Nothing  but  the  bright  face  was  now  visible;  the  small, 
bare  arms  were  raised  above  the  water;  and  a  cry  for  help 
issued  from  the  child's  hps.  George  felt  his  throat  choke; 
hia  eyes  seemed  to  be  starting  from  his  head;  his  hands 
trembled  hke  a  leaf.  Again  a  faint  cry  came  from  the 
child'a  lips — again  the  small  arms  beat  the  water;  but  the 
effort  only  hastened  her  fate.  A  wave  passed  over  her 
head  while  George  was  stiQ  ten  feet  from  her,  panting, 
overcome  with  horror  and  despair. 

Then  she  was  gone  I  snatched  from  him  I  suffocated  with^ 
in  his  rerj  sight  I   He  uttered  a  grooD  of  deqpair*  Bat 


rax  MASTHB  OF  GEHSEN  WAT  COXTRF.  87 


suddenly  he  seemed  to  feel  that  one  oonrse  was  left  hinii' 
he  might  still  save  her.  He  threw  aimself  from  the  saddle 
into  the  stream;  passed  over  the  space  which  separated 
them  with  half  a  dozen  strokes,  and  came  to  hei  side.  A 
o^irl  of  hair,  before  he  was  conscious  of  it,  glided  into  hifl 
hand,  and  the  next  moment  the  girl  was  in  his  arms,  her 
pale  face  lay  upon  his  shoulder,  and  he  swam  with  his  al* 
most  lifeless  burden  to  the  shore. 

George  raised  her  in  his  arms,  as  though  she  had  beau 
an  infant,  and  bore  her  to  a  grassy  bank.  Here,  he  used 
every  means  to  restore  her  to  consciousness,  and  at  the  end 
of  ten  minutes  had  the  inexpressible  satisfaction  of  seeing 
her  open  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  sir  1  I  was  nearly  drowned,  was  I  not  ?"  she  mur- 
mured. 

"  Yes,  indeed  you  were,"  said  George,  gazing  kindly  on 
the  little  face. 
"Did  you  save  me?'*  said  the  girL 

"  I  believe  I  did,"  said  George,  smiling,  to  keep  up  hflV 
spirits;  "you  fell  into  the  water,  and  "  

"  Oh,  yes  1   I  remember  all  now — oh,  me  1" 

And  with  a  shudder,  the  girl  closed  her  eyes,  overeome 
by  the  recollection. 

"Don't  think  about  it  any  more,"  said  the  boy;  "it  will 
agitate  you.  And  you  ought  not  to  keep  these  wet  dothefl 
on — ^you  ought  to  go  home  at  once.  And  I  must  aak  yon 
your  name,  and  where  you  live." 

The  girl  sighed,  and  said,  faintly  : 

"  My  name  is  Cannie  Powell,  and  we  live  up  in  the  Fort 
Mountain,  sir." 
"Very  far?" 
"  Oh,  no,  not  very,  sir.** 

"Don't  oaU  me  «ir,"  said  George,  smiling;  "Fm  only  a 
boy,  and  it  seems  so  constrained;  my  name  is  George." 

The  lips  of  the  girl  moved  as  though  she  were  in^irassiQg 
thft  name  forever  upon  her  mamoxy. 
8» 


08 


FAHUTAX;  OB, 


Ton  ought  to  go  home  at  once  now/**  he  saidi  *•  I  w£D  go 
and  catch  my  horse,  and  we  will  return  together.** 
The  girl's  cheeks  colored,  and  she  murmured : 
"You  are  yeij  kindl   But  I  ought  not  to — ^yon  ware 
going  "  

"  Nowhere  1  nowhere  in  the  world;  if  I  had  been,  I  know 
my  duty  as  a  gentleman." 

And  George  raised  his  head  with  simplicity;  and  casting 
a  last  look  toward  Cannie,  wdnt  to  search  for  his  horse. 
The  intelligent  animal  had  not  wandered  far.  Emerging 
lErom  the  water,  after  being  abandoned  by  his  master,  he 
had  quietly  commenced  feeding  on  the  long  grass — and  now 
allowed  himself  to  be  recaptured  easily. 

George  led  him  back  to  the  spot  where  the  girl  sat,  and 
throwing  one  stirrup  over  the  saddle,  helped  her  to  mount, 
in  spite  of  many  protestations  that  she  could  easily  walk.  The 
boy  only  smiled,  and  with  the  air  of  an  elderly  protector, 
icd  the  animal  by  the  bridle,  along  the  narrow  road, 
through  the  rugged  gorge.  To  the  music  of  the  brawling 
Passage  Creek  they  thus  entered  the  VaUey  of  the  Fort. 

Glancing  often  back  at  his  little  charge,  the  youth  now 
took  in  every  detail  of  her  face  and  figure.  Long  chestnut 
hair  feU  in  moist,  rich  curls  around  a  delicate  face,  with 
large,  hazel  eyes,  rosy  cheeks,  and  lips  full  of  a  grave  sweet- 
ness and  simpHcity.  There  was  sometliing  fresh  and  pure 
in  every  trait  of  the  countenance,  and  the  slender  form  pos- 
sessed a  childish  grace  and  attraction.  She  was  not  clad 
like  the  daughter  of  a  woodman,  and  this  fact  had  very  soon 
attracted  George's  attention.  The  fabric  of  her  dress  waa 
almost  rich,  although  greatly  worn;  traces  of  embroidery 
were  visible  upon  the  skirt;  and  around  her  neck  the  girl 
wore  a  string  of  very  beautiful  pearls.  Her  small  feet  were 
cased,  it  is  true,  ia  rough,  high-reaching  shoes;  but  her 
white  stockings  were  of  the  ^nmt  silk;  and  her  hands  had 
evidently  never  been  acquainted  with  toiL 

Thaee  singular  pecoliaxitiesof  the girrsdr^fis  atiraoted^  as 


THE  MA8TEB  OF  GBEElSrWAT  OOUET. 


59 


176  have  said,  the  attention  of  her  companion;  but  he  did  not 
dwell  on  them  as  strongly  as  he  would  have  done,  had  he 
lived  longer  in  the  wild  country  which  they  were  traversing, 
whose  inhabitants  stiU  wore  such  rude  costumes.  He  waa 
looking  at  the  sweet  face  which  riveted  his  eyes,  and  he 
gazed  at  her  so  intently  that  the  girl  colored  under  hig 
look.  George  saw  that  the  blush  was  occasioned  by  hia 
glance,  and  immediately  looked  away,  and  commenced  talk- 
ing— the  girl  replying  with  her  grave  sweetness,  in  which 
he  found  a  singular  charm. 

They  thus  took  their  way  along  the  wooded  road,  and 
soon  disappeared  behind  the  huge  trees. 

Had  George  chanced  to  look  back  as  the  road  turned  a 
great  mossy  rock,  be  would  have  seen  something  to  startle 
him.  As  the  two  forms  disappeared,  the  red  leaves  of  an 
immense  oak  sJightly  rustled — a  swarthy  face  peered  care- 
fully out — and  the  next  moment  an  Indian,  who  had  lain 
close  at  b)])  length  on  one  of  the  great  limbs,  dropped 
noiselessly  to  the  ground.  He  was  a  young  man,  apjDarently 
about  twenty-three,  with  a  slender  figure,  bare  to  the  waist 
His  nervous  limbs  were  cased  in  fringed  leggings  of  doeskin; 
his  feet  in  moccasins,  profusely  decorated  with  the  quills  of 
the  porcupine — and  above  his  forehead  nodded  a  plume  of 
bright-colored  feathers,  the  badge  of  a  chief.  In  his  bear- 
ing there  was  something  noble  and  impressive;  and  as  he 
stood  for  a  moment  leaning  with  crossed  arms,  bare  like 
his  chest,  rrpon  a  long  cedar  bow,  he  presented  an  appear- 
ance eminently  attractive  for  its  wild  and  graceful  beauty. 

The  young  In  i.m  looked  gravely  in  the  direction  taken 
by  George  and  Cannie — threw  a  quick  glance  toward  the 
nky — then  murmuring  something  in  a  low  voice,  which  was 
rery  musical  and  sad,  set  forward  with  the  rapid  pace  of  a 
hunter,  on  the  path  which  they  had  followed.  He  saw 
them  mount  the  winding  road,  and  approach  a  little  moun- 
tain dweUing.  Then,  as  if  satisfied  that  further  watching 
was  n^ess,  he  sighed,  plunged  into  the  forest  again,  and 
vaa  lost  in  the  shadow  of  the  autumn  foliage 


FAiBFiJL:  cm, 


X. 

A  SINGULAB  PERSONAGE. 

ROTJKD  the  small  house  upon  the  side  of  the 

mountain,  the  finest  tints  of  autumn  seemed  to 
cluster.  The  great  oaks  were  like  pyramids  of 
crimson;  the  tufted  pines,  resembling  the  tall 
tropic  palms,  which  wave  their  gigantic  plumes  in  the 
breezes  of  the  Indian  ocean,  rose  clear  and  beautiful  against 
the  sky — and  over  all  fell  the  rosy  haze  of  autumn  like  a 
happy  dream. 

The  house  was  of  logs,  rough-hewn,  and  with  clap-boarda 
for  a  roof;  the  windows  small,  and  evidently  constructed 
with  an  eye  to  defence;  the  stone  chimney  in  the  rear 
leaned,  as  it  were,  against  a  huge  mass  of  rock,  fringed  with 
close-set  shrubbery.  Flowers  of  autumn  were  in  bloom 
beside  the  low  door — and  the  whole  mansion  had  about  it 
an  indefinable  air,  which  seemed  to  indicate  the  presence  oi 
a  woman  or  a  child.  George  assisted  Cannie  to  the  ground, 
and  fixing  the  bridle  of  his  horse  to  a  bough,  followed  hex 
into  the  house.  The  room  which  they  entered  was  simply 
furnished,  but  scrupulously  neat;  some  books  were  lying 
on  the  rude  shelf  used  as  a  mantel-piece;  and  the  whole 
apartment  was  very  cheerful  and  attractive. 

As  Cannie  entered,  an  old  man  came  to  meet  her;  and  the 
eyes  of  this  personage  were  fixed  upon  her  companion 
with  an  intentness  which  was  for  the  moment  not  at  all 
agreeable.  They  seemed  to  look  through  him,  and  that, 
without  the  least  effort,  and  in  an  instant. 

Then  the  expression  of  the  old  man*s  face  changed;  he 
greeted  the  boy  with  coUeoted  oouriesy;  and  when  Ownic^ 


ttOI  MASTER  OF  OREENWAT  OOUBfC  $1 


in  a  broken  and  agitated  voice,  spoke  of  her  accident  and 
rescue,  the  old  man's  expression  changed  more  and  more, 
and  with  a  slight  color  in  his  pale  cheeks,  he  held  out  hid 
hand,  and  grasped  that  of  George  with  the  warmest  grati- 
tude. 

George  scanned  the  figure  of  his  host;  and  this  scrutiny 
evidently  resulted  in  a  manner  similar  to  that  former  one  in 
regard  to  the  child.  The  old  man  was  evidently  no  rude 
backwoodsman;  his  countenance  and  eyes  wore  the  unmis- 
takable stamp  of  the  student,  and  the  man  of  intellectual 
cultivation;  and  even  in  his  dress  the  same  difference  was 
discernible.  He  was  clad  in  a  suit  which  had  once  been 
rich,  and  still  exhibited  traces,  beneath  a  thousand  stains 
and  rents,  of  its  former  splendor.  Upon  one  of  the  thin 
fingers,  sparkled  a  diamond  ring,  and  a  pair  of  large,  gold- 
cased  glasses  covered  his  eyes,  rolling  beneath  their  heavy 
white  eyebrows. 

As  Cannie  related,  in  her  grave,  sweet  voice,  the  events  oi 
the  morning,  George  read  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  man  a 
depth  of  tenderness,  which  he  had  never  before  seen  in  the 
face  of  mortal.  When  she  told  how  George  had  saved  her 
life,  the  wan  cheeks  Hushed,  and  holding  out,  as  we  have 
said,  his  thin,  white  hand,  the  strange  host  inclosed  the 
youth's  in  a  grasp,  which  resembled  the  pressure  of  steel 
springs. 

"  You  have  saved  two  Hves,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  singular 
aobility  of  tone;  "thanks,  thanks  1  And  now,  my  child,'* 
lie  added,  turning  to  Cannie,  "  go  change  your  dress,  or 
fou  will  be  ill.^ 

The  girl  obeyed,  and  disappeared  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
luring  which  time  the  singular  host  spoke  calmly  on  a  vari- 
ety of  subjects.  There  was  an  air  of  collected  strength  and 
jomposure  about  the  speaker,  which  puzzled  George  more 
uid  more — for  he  felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  supe- 
rior man.  In  the  midst  of  the  conversation,  Cannie  re-ap* 
fueared,  with  a  primrose  m  ber  hair,  and  a  smile  on  her  Upi 


as 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


— fsr  more  beantifol,  George  thouglit,  than  before.  She 
joined  simply  in  the  coQversation — and  an  hour  tied  by  im- 
perceptibly, during  which  the  youth  found  himself  more  and 
more  absorbed  in  the  process  of  gazing  at  Cannie.  Then 
remembering  his  agreement  with  Captara  Wagner,  he  arose, 
and  in  8pH.e  of  'he  most  courteous  urging,  declared  he  mast 
depart. 

I  really  must  return,  sir."  he  £alJ;  they  inH  expect  me 
at  Green  way  Court." 

"  At  Greenway  Court!"  said  his  host,  with  an  unmi«taka 
ble  start;  "  are  you  staying  at  Greenway  Court  ?" 

And  the  piercing  eyes  seemed  to  dive  into  his  own,  as 
though  their  owner  wished  to  read  his  very  soul. 

"  Yes,  I  came  to  the  Valley  but  a  day  or  two  since,"  re- 
plied the  young  man,  "and  stopped  at  Lord  Fairfax's. 
What  surprises  you,  sir  ?" 

"  Nothing,  nothing,  my  young  friend — it  xs  nothing !" 

And  withdrawing,  as  it  were,  into  himself,  the  speaker 
controlled  every  exhibition  of  emotion.  But  George  after- 
wards remembered  the  quick  start — and  understood  why  the 
utterance  of  the  simple  words  produced  an  effect  so  singu- 

With  the  promise  that  he  would  come  very  soon  again 
60  know  if  Cannie  had  recovered  from  her  accident,  he  at 
last  departed — the  grave,  sweet  face  of  the  girl  going  with 
him  —her  smile  seeming  to  light  him  on  his  way.  A  thou- 
and  speculations  chased  each  other  through  his  bewildered 
mind;  he  tried  in  vain  to  imagine  who  his  eccentric  host 
could  be.  But  he  was  completely  at  fault.  He  gave  up 
finally  in  despair;  and  turned  with  a  sort  of  delightful  re- 
lief to  the  image  of  the  grave  Uttle  maiden. 

He  was  still  absorbed  in  his  thoughts  of  her,  when  the  si- 
lence of  the  lonely  road  was  suddenly  broken.  The  notes  ol 
a  bugle  rang  out  clear  from  the  mountain  side — the  echoes 
chased  each  other  frorn  cliff  to  cliff — and  then  a  great  tramp- 
ling and  baying  was  heard  near  at  hand,  and  a  huge  stag, 
pursued  by  a  score  of  hounds,  bounded  into  the  gorge,  and 
foil  hleedinig^  to  tbp  p.^rfTi  almost  M  tl^n  vmmor  r^inn's  fo/^f-. 


XBOS  MASTKB  OF  GBKENWAY  C0X7M.  63 


XL 

THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN. 

HE  trampling  which  George  had  heard  all  at  ouoe 
became  louder  ;  a  hoarse  voice  hallooed  to  the 
dogs  ;  and  in  an  instant  a  tall  huntsman,  mounted 
on  a  fiery  animal  of  great  size  and  muscle,  thun- 
dered from  a  narrow  bridle-path  into  the  open  space. 

The  stag  had  fallen,  but,  half  raised  upon  one  knee,  was 
goring  the  dogs  with  his  huge  antlers.  They  strove  to 
clutch  him  by  the  throat,  but  he  foiled  them,  one  and  all, 
aud  several  of  them  had  akeady  received  bad  wounds  when 
the  huntsman  reached  the  spot.  The  sight  seemed  to  arouse 
a  wild  ferocity  in  him.  His  cheeks  flushed  crimson,  his  eyes 
glared,  and  leaping  from  his  horse,  he  di-ew  his  couU:fai  de 
chasse,  and  threw  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  dogs. 

The  stag  made  a  last  desperate  effort.  He  seemed  Ui  feel 
that  all  was  over.  The  dangerous  antlers  were  lowered  to 
pierce  the  hunter's  breast — but  all  was  in  vain.  The  ner- 
Tous  hand  grasping  the  sharp  hunting-knife,  darted  forward 
— ^the  blood  spouted  forth — and  the  stag  fell  to  the  earth,  his 
throat  cut  nearly  through  and  through. 

The  hunter  rose,  and  calmly  wiped  the  blood  from  his 
knife  on  his  sleeve.  Then  he  turned  to  the  youth.  George 
had  thus  an  opportunity  to  scan  his  appearance.  He  was  a 
man  of  middle  age,  with  a  tail,  gaunt  figure,  penetrating  eyes, 
and  lips  whicli  seemed  to  indicate  a  temperament  rather 
melancholy  and  cynical,  than  happy.  He  wore  a  brown  pe- 
ruke, and  otter-akin  cap,  with  a  buck's  tail  stuck  in  it,  and 
tall  boots  with  heavy  spurs.  The  remainder  of  his  costume 
was  rich,  but  disoolored  by  rain  and  »mx.    The  coat  had 


TAIBTAX  OB, 


once  been  profusely  laced,  and  the  orange  silk  waiftteoat 
BtiU  showed  traces  of  gold  embroidery  ;  but  the  sidty  like  its 
wearer,  appeared  to  have  "seen  better  days."  The  hunter 
had  carelessly  wiped  the  blade  of  his  fine  French  couiean  dt 
c?iasse  on  his  cnflf,  and  now  scanned  with  great  calmness  his 
eompanion. 

"  A  stag  of  ten,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  quiet,  deep  voice  ;  "  you 
were  fortunate  to  be  in  at  the  death." 

"It  is  bloody  sport,"  returned  the  young  man,  "  but  won- 
derfully exciting.  What  will  you  do  with  the  carcass  of  the 
deer,  sir?" 

"  Carry  it  home  with  me,"  returned  the  huntsman. 

And  whistling  to  his  horse,  which  came  slowly  to  his  side^ 
he  raised  the  ponderous  body,  and  threw  it  across  the  front 
of  the  saddle.    Then  mounting,  he  said  : 

"  You  were  going  in  this  direction — ^were  you  not,  sir  ?" 

George  replied  in  the  afl&rmative ;  and  followed  by  tha 
dogs,  of  whom  many  limped  painfully,  they  took  their  way 
straight  toward  the  river. 

"  A  day  for  an  emperor  1"  said  the  stranger  in  a  deep  voice. 
Then  aU  at  once  smiling  grimly,  he  looked  at  the  young  man 
and  added  :  "  but  that  may  seem  an  improper  distinction  to 
you — ^you  appear  to  be  a  Virginian,  and  the  Virginians  are  all 
republicans." 

"I  am  a  loyal  subject  of  his  Majesty,  George  IL,"  re- 
turned the  boy,  "  but  God  made  the  sunshine  for  all  alike— 
did  he  not,  sir  ?" 

A  grim  smile  seemed  to  deepen  on  the  stranger's  face. 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  was  the  half  indifferent  reply,  "but 
the  lion  has  more  right  to  the  forest  than  the  jackal — ^if  not  to 
the  sunshine.  You  see,  sir,  that  his  is  the  divine  right  of 
kings,  and  his  court  of  tigers,  leopards  and  panthers,  have 
their  privileges  of  nobility." 

George  looked  puzzled.  The  strange  huntsman  seemed  to 
aim  at  provoking  discussion ;  but  it  was  difficult  to  reply  to 


fni  uxBTsn  Of  GttiESKWAt^  coum  6S 


**Tou  dissent,"  continued  the  grim  speaker,  "  out  yon 
don't  reply  to  me.  Come,  say  now,  my  chance  friend — is  not 
all  this  proper  ?  Should  not  the  lion  rule  the  forest— the 
eagle  the  air?  Should  not  the  beautiful  tigers  and  cougara 
be  above  foxes — hyenas  ?'* 

"  Oh,  assuredly  1*'  said  George,  "  but  kings  and  nobles  are 
not  Hons  or  eagles  always — great  lords  are  very  often  foxes 
I  have  heard.  And  tell  me,  is  it  just,  sir,  that  because  the 
fox  bites  the  heel  of  the  huntsman,  as  in  the  fable,  and 
saves  the  Ufe  of  the  lion — is  it  just  that  the  lion  should  de- 
clare the  foxes  throughout  all  time  superior  to  the  higher 
elass  of  animals 

"Good,  good!"  said  the  stranger,  "you  strike  hard  at 
hereditary  privilege.  You  are  a  republican — you  w(>uld 
overturn  class  ? 

"  I  would  raise  up  worth  I"  said  George  with  animation  ;  "I 
would  have  the  strong  and  pure,  instead  of  the  weak  and 
corrupt,  at  the  head  of  affairs.  I  think  when  God  gives  in- 
tegrity and  powerful  brain  to  a  man,  he  should  hold  the  reins 
of  power,  rather  than  his  inferiors,  though  his  origin  be  as 
obscure  as  a  peasant's.    Is  not  that  entirely  rational,  sir  ?" 

"Hum I  hum!"  said  the  stranger  with  his  former  smile, 
"  I  was  not  wrong  in  declaring  you  a  republican — but  that's 
no  matter.  What  care  we  for  kings  or  nobles  in  the  wilds 
here?   Here's  the  river." 

And  with  these  laconic  words  the  huntsman  pushed  his 
horse  into  the  water ;  and,  half  fording,  half  swimming,  soon 
reached  the  opposite  bank.  George  was  there  as  quickly, 
and  they  again  set  forward — soon  issuing  from  the  forest 
into  the  waving  prairie,  whose  myriads  of  brilliant  flowers 
were  gUttering  in  the  rich  light  of  the  sinking  sun. 

All  at  once  two  figures  on  horseback  appeared  a  quartef 
of  a  mile  in  advance  of  them  ;  and  these  figures  plainly  de&^ 
died  them,  and  awaited  their  approach* 


rAIBTAX:  OB. 


XIL 

THE  DRAMA  OOMMI370SB* 

EOEGE  recognized  Falconbridge  and  Miss  ArgaL 
He  rode  his  white  thoroughbred,  she  her  little 
filly — and  standing  in  the  tall  grass  which  reached 
nearly  to  the  backs  of  their  horses,  they  presented, 
in  the  golden  flood  of  sunlight,  a  richly  picturesque  appear- 
ance. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  yoa,**  said  Falconbridge,  poshing 
forward  and  shaking  George's  hand,  with  a  gay  smile  :  then 
bowing  courteously  to  the  stranger,  he  added,  "give  jon 
good  day,  sir  " 

The  hunter  inclined  cooUy  ;  but  something  in  the  face  of 
the  young  man,  or  his  tone  of  voice,  seemed  to  affect  him 
strimgely.  His  penetrating  gaze  riveted  itself  upon  the 
proud,  laughing  features  of  Falconbridge,  and  a  shadow 
passed  over  his  brow,  like  that  from  a  floating  cloud. 

"It  is  strange  !"  the  grim  lips  murmured  ;  "what  a  sin- 
gular resemblance !" 

Falconbridge  did  not  observe  the  expression  or  the  tone. 
He  had  turned  to  George,  and  began  to  explain  how  the 
young  lady  and  himself,  in  riding  out,  had  lost  their  w&y. 
His  manner,  when  he  addressed  or  looted  at  her,  bad 
changed  greatly.  There  was  something  ai  dent  and  impas- 
sioned in  his  gaze  as  it  rested  on  her  face  ;  and  the  lady  was 
not  backward  in  returning  it  with  looks  almost  as  signifi- 
cant of  her  feelings.  By  some  fatality  this  emotion  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  ripened  in  both  hearts — thenceforth  it  wai 
plain  that  the  young  lady  was  tLo  fate  of  Falconbridge — hia 
hie  for  veal  or  wo* 


TOT  lOSTEB  OF  OBBENWAY  OOUBIl  87 


"  And  Miss  Argal,"  said  George,  wlien  Falconbridge  Lad 
told  how  they  had  circled  at  random  over  the  prairie,  "  waa 
she  frightened  ?" 

"  Oh  no !  she  has  behaved  like  a  heroine,  in  spite  of  her 
utter  ignorance  of  the  road  back  to  her  home." 

"  I  can't  think  where  we  are,"  said  the  young  lady,  with 
one  of  her  pretty  smiles.  But  for  some  vague  reason  George 
felt  as  if  this  declaration  were  not  true.  There  was  an  im- 
perceptible constraint  in  her  manner  as  she  spoke  ;  and  his 
truthful  instinct  told  him  that  there  was  deception  of  some 
sort  beneath  her  apparent  candor.  He  did  not  reply,  but 
turning  to  his  companion  said  : 

"We  are  not  far  from  Greenway  Court,  I  believe,  sir." 

"Some  distance,"  returned  the  huntsman  coolly,  "but  the 
path  is  well  beaten." 

And  with  a  courteous  but  cold  inclination  to  the  young 
lady,  he  set  forward,  followed  by  the  party.  The  sun  ran  in 
a  stream  of  rich  purple  light  across  the  hills ,  and  far  away 
beyond  the  mountains  ;  the  golden  cloud  ships  slowly 
floated  off  into  the  distance  and  were  lost :  and  as  the 
shades  of  night  descended  and  the  stars  came  out,  thej 
reached  the  old  mansion  of  Greenway. 

The  tall  huntsman  tied  his  bridle  to  the  bough  of  a  tree 
lifted  the  carcass  of  the  deer  to  the  ground,  and  turned  to- 
ward the  porch.  As  he  did  so,  old  John  appeared  upon  the 
threshold,  and  bowing  low,  respectfully  approached. 

"  Dismount  if  you  please.  Miss  Argal,"  said  the  hunter, 
with  grave  courtesy,  "  and  honor  my  poor  house  with  youi 
presence." 

"Lord  Fairfax!"  exclaimed  George,  "I  might  have  known 
that  you  were  Lord  Fairfax — but  my  mind  was  busy  with 
other  thoughts !" 

And  something  like  a  blush  came  to  the  cheeks  of  t'  e  boy 
The  Earl  smiled,  and  pressing  the  young  man's  hand,  said 
in  a  friendly  tone  : 

'  I  am  gl^  you  did  not  know  me — ^had  you  recogniied  oae 


of  those  *  foxes '  yon  spoke  of,  you  wotdd  have  eitpressed 
yourself,  perhaps,  less  honestly." 

And  with  courteous  gesture,  Lord  Fairfax  marshalled  his 
guests  before  him  into  the  mansion. 

The  first  object  which  greeted  all  eyes,  was  the  huge  form 
of  Captain  Wagner  stretched  m  his  favorite  leathern  chair  : 
he  was  sound  asleep,  and  his  snoring  resembled  distant 
thunder.  It  was  an  amusing  picture.  His  cocked  hat  had 
lallen  on  the  floor,  and  half  covered  a  pipe  which  had  es- 
caped from  the  soldier's  hand.  A  half  emptied  cup  of  Ja- 
maica rum  at  his  elbow  proved  that  the  sleeper  had  been  al- 
so occupied  by  the  task  of  drinking  after  dinner.  The  long 
Bword  in  its  leathern  scabbard  had  gotten  between  the  ath- 
letic legs  of  the  Captain,  and  at  every  chance  movement  rat- 
tled fiercely  against  the  rowels  of  his  spurs,  or  the  iron  heels 
of  his  large  horseman's  boot^. 

"  Captain  Wagner!"  exclaimed  the  Earl,  "  so  he's  here  1" 

The  Borderer  stirred  in  his  sleep,  and  the  words  "  fairest 
lady!"  escaped  from  his  heavy  froth-soiled  moustache. 
Whether  it  arose  from  the  natui^e  of  his  dreams,  or  from  the 
vicinity  of  that  Hthe  and  beautiful  form,  we  cannot  under- 
take to  say  :  but  it  is  certain  that  when  Captain  Wagner  was 
awakened  by  the  loud  voice  of  Lord  Fairfax,  his  conduct 
seemed  to  indicate  anything  but  dreams  of  ladies.  He 
started  up,  seized  his  sword,  and  overturning  the  flagon  of 
Jamaica  with  his  elbow,  threw  himself  forward,  crying  "  In- 
juns !  or  the  devil  tak^  me  I" 

The  grim  melancholy  smile  George  had  already  observed, 
passed  over  the  face  of  Lord  Fairfax,  and  he  sat  down, 
courteously  motioning  to  his  guests  to  be  seated  also.  Then 
turning  to  the  soldier,  who  was  rubbing  his  eyes  : 

"  Well,  Captain  Longknife,"  he  said  grimly,  "sleeping  cm 
duty  I  see.    When  did  you  arrive  ?" 

The  Captain  bowed  with  great  composure,  and  picked  up 
bis  hat. 

You,  mj  lord,^  he  said,  "  are  responsible  for  this  n&p  I 


THl  ICASTBE  OF  GBXSimJLT  OOXJXXi  00 


tttre  taken,  and  if  I  have  slept  on  my  post,  you  see  I  was 
ready  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"  True  ;  you  came  near  splitting  me  and  my  frienda 
here." 

"That  would  have  been  too  bad/' said  the  Captain,  "to 
Bplit  f30  noble  a  seigneur  as  the  baron  of  Cameron  ;  such 
brave  companions  as  friend  Falconbridge  and  George,  or  so 
peerless  a  dame  as  Miss  Argal." 

With  which  words  Captain  Wagner  executed  a  stifif  indi- 
nation  toward  the  lady  in  question. 

"  Thanks,  sir,"  said  Miss  Argal  in  her  self-possessed  voice, 

"I  hope  in  my  absence  you  procured  everything  you 
wished.  Captain,"  said  Lord  Fairfax  ;  "  old  John  "  • 

"Is  a  trump,  or  I'm  a  dandy,  my  dear  sir,"  interrupted 
the  Borderer.  "  Did  I  find  all  I  wanted  ?  I  believe  you  I 
I'm  an  old  campaigner,  and  feeling  entirely  at  home  had 
everybody  running,  of  course." 

"Eight,  right,"  said  Lord  Fairfax,  smiHng  ;  "now,  with 
your  permission,  we'll  have  supper^  as  I'm  hungry." 

"  My  permission !"  cried  the  Captain,  "you  are  jesting  I 
You  could  not  please  me  better  ;  I  am  dying  for  something 
to  eat,  my  dear  friend !" 

Old  John,  who  was  standing  respectfully  in  a  comer, 
opened  his  eyes  at  this  statement,  in  a  way  that  expressed 
volumes — ^but  he  was  far  too  hospitable  to  allude  to  the 
Captain's  performances  at  dinner.  At  a  sign  from  his  mas- 
ter he  busied  himself  at  once  to  get  supper — and  soon  it  was 
smoking  upon  the  board. 

Neither  Falconbridge  nor  IVIiss  Argal  seemed  in  a  hurry  to 
depart ;  and  when  after  the  meal  Lord  Fairfax  urge-d  the 
young  lady  to  remain  all  night,  to  avoid  the  chill  air,  she 
consented  with  very  Httle  difficulty.  George  unconsciously 
asked  himself  if  young  ladies  in  his  neighborhood  ever  re- 
mained away  thus  from  home,  and  treated  the  feelings  of 
their  relatives  with  such  slight  ceremony  :  but  as  Falcon- 
bridge,  beyond  a  alight  movement  of  surprise,  indicated  do 


70 


FAIBFXX;  OB, 


opmiot?,  the  jc  ath  thought  he  was  unreasonable,  andhlamisdl 
himsell  for  his  growing  disliko  to  the  young  ladj 

She  kept  her  fine  eyes  cast  down  bashfully,  the  greater 
part  of  the  time,  only  raising  them  occasionally  to  throw 
toward  Falconbridge  one  of  those  glances  fuU  of  subtle  fas- 
dnation^  which  made  her  so  dangerous.  It  thus  happened 
that  Ehe  did  not  observe  the  steady  look  which  Lord  Fair- 
fax bent  upon  her  face.  This  look,  full  of  admiration,  and 
so  striking  in  one  who  seemed  to  care  very  little  for  aught 
around  him,  took  in  every  detail  of  the  surpassingly  beauti« 
fol  woman's  appearance: — the  gently  arched  brows,  the  ripe 
red  lips,  the  rounded  chin,  and  the  snowy  throat,  against 
which  the  dark  curls  were  clearly  reHeved,  making  the  white 
skin  more  dazzling  from  the  contrast.  Miss  Argal  did  not 
observe  that  absorbing  look;  Ler  marvellous  acuteness  would 
have  liscerned  in  it  more  than  it  expressed.  He  soon 
fcumed  away,  and  commenced  tsdking  with  Captain  Wag- 
ner, and  George;  and  thus  the  hours  fled,  and  bed-time 
came.  A  maid  announced  that  the  young  lady's  apartment 
was  prepared;  and  Lord  Fairfax,  rising,  conducted  her  to  the 
door,  which  he  courteously  opened,  and  ushered  her 
through  with  a  ceremonious  inclination.  She  inclined  her 
head  gracefully  in  turn,  and  with  a  quick  glance  from  the 
comers  of  her  eyes  toward  Falconbridge,  disappeared. 

"What  a  very  beautiful  face  this  young  lady  has  1"  said 
the  Earl,  indifferently,  "  who  is  she  ?" 

"The  daughter  of  your  neighbor  Argal,'*  said  the  Cap- 
tain; "the  new  settler  up  there  toward  Stephensburg." 

"  The  lady  is  a  friend  of  yours,  I  believe,  sir,"  said  the 
Earl,  turning  courteously  to  Falconbridge.  "I  do  not 
know  tliat  I  have  seen  you  in  our  neighborhood  before." 

"That  is  easily  explained,  my  lord,"  returned  Falcon* 
bridge,  with  the  same  easy  courtesy.  "I  have  but  just 
re6U2hed  this  region.  I  have  come  hither  to  gather  infor- 
mation as  to  the  condition  of  a  large  tract  of  land  which  I 
pwn  on  the  South  Branch,  by  jrant  some  years  ainoe,  froai 


THX  MASTEB  OF  GBlISNWiiX  OOUS^  71 

j'cmi  l^rdsLip's  agent  there.    As  to  Miss  Ajgal,  I  think  1 
may  rftyle  myself  her  friend,  though  oar  acquaintance  kii^ 
been  short." 
Lord  Fairfax  bowed  and  said : 

"  To-morrow  I  shall  endeavor  to  afford  you  the  informa- 
tion you  desire,  Mr.  Falconbridge,  and  to  cut  out  a  task  for 
you,  George,  my  young  Republican." 

"Oh,  then  you've  been  debating  I"  said  the  Captain,  with 
a  yawn. 

"  Yes,  nnd  George  is  a  leveller — ^but  uo  matter.  I  care 
for  nobody's  poUtics.  As  long  as  he  surveys  accurately,  and 
you,  Caf  tain,  drive  off  the  Indians,  Fm  content.  Vnd  now, 
gentiem  ^n,  I  must  bid  you  good-night.  I  am  really  weary. 
Jour  apartments  are  all  prepared." 

With  these  words  the  Earl  inclined  his  head,  and  rang  a 
little  silver  bell,  which  speedily  brought  old  John  to  the 
Apartment.  In  half  an  hour,  the  whole  mansion  was  sileai 
Were  all  sleeping  ? 


n 


xm 

mm  FALGONBBIDaE  HAD  A  STBANGB  DBBJJI. 

ALCONBREDGE  had  a  singular  dream  He  im* 
agmed  that  about  two  hours  after  midnight,  hifi 
door  opened;  a  heayy  step  stealthily  approached 
his  couch,  which  was  flooded  by  the  pallid  raya 
of  the  great  soaring  moon;  and  a  tail  form  bent  down,  and 
looked  long  and  in  silence  upon  his  face. 

What  the  mysterious  figure  was  like,  he  could  not  tell, 
as  the  shoulders  and  head  were  wrapped  in  a  heavy  mantle 
completely  concealing  the  sex  and  character  of  the  visitant. 
All  that  he  plainly  perceived,  was  a  pair  of  burning  eyea 
between  the  folds  of  the  mantle — dark  stars,  as  it  were 
which  glittered  as  they  shone  upon  him  with  a  lurid  lustre. 
The  figure  remained  thus  motionless  beside  his  couch, 
lost  in  the  deep  shadow,  and  silently  scanning  the  sleeper, 
who  was  full  in  the  moonlight,  for  what  seemed  to  Falcon- 
bridge,  an  interminable  time.  Mastered  by  a  vague  influ- 
ence, which  he  could  not  throw  off,  the  young  man  lay  still, 
asking  himself  if  he  were  really  asleep  and  dreaming  this — 
or  half  awake,  and  looking  upon  a  real  form.  He  could  not 
determine  the  question  in  his  mind,  and  remained  thus,  ly- 
ing supine  and  powerless  before  the  vision,  in  the  condition 
of  a  sleep-walker,  or  one  in  a  trance. 

To  the  first  sensation  of  surprise  and  vague  discomfort  at 
the  presence  of  the  singular  visitor,  ere  long  succeeded  a 
deep  curiosity  to  discover  what  wcmild  be  the  next  action  ol 
the  figure.  The  eyes  seemed  to  have  burned  down  upon 
his  face  for  centuries,  but  at  some  time  they  must  be  with- 
drawn. Falconbridge  waited,  therefore,  and  was  not  dis- 
appointed  in  his  expectation. 


SHS  ItASTEB  OF  OBESN^AT  OOUBX!. 


73 


The  mysterious  figure  slowly  assumed  an  upright  position 
a  deep  sigh  seemed  to  issue  from  its  bosom;  and  with  head 
bent  over  its  shoulder,  and  drooping  form,  it  slowly  returned 
toward  the  door  through  which  it  had  entered. 

The  absence  of  the  strange,  glowing  eyes  seemed  to  give 
ihe  dreamer  courage.  No  longer  paralyzed,  as  it  were,  by 
the  magnetic  glance,  Falconbridge  started  from  his  couch 
and  grasping  his  sword,  which  lay  upon  the  table,  near  his 
bed,  bounded  to  the  door. 

He  thought  he  saw  it  open  and  close  upon  the  figure. 

His  sword  pierced  the  soUd  wood — the  clash  echoing 
through  the  mansion  with  a  strange,  weird  soimd. 

Falconbridge  tore  open  the  door,  and  issued  forth  upon 
the  landing  of  the  staircase.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen.  The 
pale  raoonlight  slept  upon  the  rude  banisters,  and  the 
aaken  floor,  but  no  form  was  visible. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  retui'ning  to  the  apartment, 
wrenched  his  sword  from  the  wood  in  which  the  point  had 
b^^en  buried. 

Had  he  dreamed  ?    Could  it  really  have  been  his  fancy  ? 

"  I  swear  I  saw  it  I"  he  muttered,  wiping  the  cold  perspi- 
ra.tion  from  his  brow,  and  returning  to  his  couch;  "it  bent 
over  me,  and  looked  into  my  face  1" 

With  these  words  he  deposited  his  sword  again  upon  the  ta- 
ble, and  lay  down.  He  remained  for  an  hour  or  more  awake, 
watching  for  the  return  of  the  figure,  but  nothing  disturbed 
the  lonely  sUence.  At  last  he  fell  asleep,  murmuring;  and 
slumbered  undisturbed,  until  the  sunlight  streamed  into  his 
chamber  through  the  eastern  window,  and  waked  him* 
4 


74 


FAIRFAX ;  0B| 


XIV- 

THE  N£XT  MDBNINGk 

OTJ  must  have  eaten  &  heavy  supper,  sir,"  said 

Lord  Fairfax  coldly,  as  at  breakfast  the  young 
man  related  his  strange  vision;  **  Green  way 
Court  is  not  ancient  enough  to  possess  a  ghost, 
and  your  dreams  took  a  singular  direction." 

"True,  my  lord,"  returned  Falconbridge,  thoughtfully, 
**  but  I  could  almost  swear  I  was  not  asleep." 

"Not  asleep  V*  said  the  Earl,  with  grave  surprise. 
"  At  least  I  think  so.    But  plainly,  I  am  mistaken.  Yet 
*tis  strange !    I  seem  to  have  seen  really  those  lurid  eyes 
full  of  pain  and  yearning — unhappy  eyes  !" 

And  Falconbridge  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  sighed. 
"  There,  comrade !'  said  Captain  Wagner,  with  his  mouth 
full,  "stop  that  groaning,  or  you'll  make  me  melancholy. 
Luckily  my  appetite  is  proof^  against  everything — but  come, 
laugh !" 

Falconbridge  smiled.  The  sonorous  voice  of  the  soldier 
aroused  him;  and  his  constitut}<)nal  spirits  gradually  re- 
turned. 

"You  are  right.  Captain,"  he  said;  "this  is  idle,  and  I 
am  earned  away  by  sickly  fancies.  And  yet  I  could  have 
sworn  !  but  enough.  I  fear  I've  terrified  you  by  my  ghost!** 
he  added,  turning  with  a  brilliant  smile  to  Miss  Argal;  "I 
trust  your  own  dreams  were  more  pleasant. 

"Very  pleasant,"  was  the  low  reply;  and  George  cati^t 
in  its  passage,  a  quick  glance,  wliich  seemed  to  say,  "I 
dreamed  of  you." 

The  breakfast  soon  afterward  terminated;  and  PfJcoH 
kxridge  requested  the  Earl  to  have  his  horse  mid  Mian 


rax  MJjfTER  oar  msammJLi  ooubs.  Tft 

Arga^'s  brought  up.  The  young  lady  replied  to  nis  lord- 
ship's hospitable  invitation  to  remain,  that  she  feared  her 
father  was  uneasy  on  her  account;  and  this  excuse  was  oon- 
elusive. 

So  they  departed;  Falconbridge  making  an  appointment 
with  the  Earl  to  visit  him  on  the  next  day;  and  soon  after- 
ward George,  too,  mounted  his  horse  and  left  Greenway. 

Was  it  to  look  at  the  country,  or  make  surveys  ?  If  so^ 
the  youth  evidently  preferred  the  region  of  the  Fort  Moun- 
tain; for  in  an  hour  or  two  he  had  crossed  the  river,  and 
iras  galloping  along  the  road  to  the  house  of  Canzde. 


fAIBVAX;  0B» 


XV- 

BOW     LOBD    FAIBFAX    INFOBMED    THE    OAPTAIN    OF  FAMILf 
PBOPHECY. 

ORD  FAIRFA.X  and  the  Captain  were  thus  left 

alone  together. 

The  worthy  Borderer  lit  his  pipe,  and  stretch- 
ing himself  in  his  favorite  leathern  chair,  pre- 
pared to  listen  or  to  converse. 

The  Earl  sat  opposite  in  one  of  the  carved-backed  seats; 
and,  resting  one  arm  upon  a  small  table,  prepared  for  busi- 
ness. Two  great  deer-hounds  lay  at  his  feet,  and  altogether 
he  presented,  in  his  rich  costume  of  blue  velvet,  slashed  and 
ornamented  wdth  embroidery,  an  extremely  picturesque 
appearance,  though  the  Ustless  and  melancholy  e^pressioQ 
of  his  features  seemed  to  indicate  that  his  feehngs  were  far 
from  cheerful. 

On  the  table,  beneath  the  hand  of  the  Earl,  lay  a  rudely- 
drawn  map  of  the  frontier,  and  beside  it  were  a  number  ol 
roughly-folded  letters,  and  an  inkstand,  from  which  a  long 
eagle's  quill  rose,  Uke  a  bulrush  bowed  by  the  wind. 

As  to  Captain  "Wagner,  that  worthy  was  clad  as  usual  in 
his  rough  travelling  dress,  and  heavy  boots.  One  would 
have  imagined  that  the  soldier  never  doffed  these  vestments, 
BO  whoUy  a  part  of  him  did  they  seem;  and  it  would  have 
astonished  his  acquaintances  to  have  seen  the  huge  sword 
anywhere  else  than  in  its  natural  position,  suspended  from 
the  great  broad  belt,  and  between  the  athletic  legs. 

Lord  Fairfax  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  passed  his 
hand  wearily  over  his  brow.  His  features  wore  their  ordi- 
nary expression  of  gloomy,  almost  harsh  repose,  but  from 


THB  ICASTEB  Of  QBEEWAT  OOdBl*  f1 

**Thns,  yon  see,  Captain,**  he  said,  at  length,  "that  I  want 
assistance.  The  audacious  attack  upon  my  house  here 
whicii  you  have  just  related,  proves  that  I  was  not  wrong  in 
•ending  for  you  to  come  and  help  me.  You  think  that  this 
was  only  a  prowling  band,  and  of  no  strength — mere  pil- 
lagers from  the  recesses  of  the  mountains,  come  down  on  a 
momentary  foray,  as  we  say  in  Scotland;  you  may  be  right 
— I  do  not  dispute  it — in  fact  I  agree  with  you.  But  that 
the  appearance  of  Indians,  in  any  numbers,  east  of  the 
North  Mountain,  is  a  thing  to  take  heed  of,  I  need  not  tell 
jrou.  Besides,  I  have  other  information  which  I  have  laid 
before  you,  to  which  you  have  listened  attentively,  and  be- 
yond doubt  carefully  considered.  It  comes  to  me  in  right 
of  my  office.  I  am  Lord  Lieutenant,  or,  as  they  say  here, 
County  Lieutenant  of  Frederick  and  the  adjoining  shires, 
and  this  information  proves  to  me,  that  a  great  Indian  at- 
tack may  be  expected  at  any  moment.  I  am  not  sure  that 
tins  day  will  pass  in  peace;  that  a  runner  will  not,  in  aB 
hour  from  this  time,  bui  st  into  my  presence  to  announce 
an  attack  upon  my  manois  on  the  South  Branch.'* 

"  Not  improbable,*'  said  the  Captain,  smoothing  his  mous- 
tache, thoughtfully. 

"Thus  I  have  sent  for  you,"  continued  Lord  Fairfax, 
"  and  I  thank  you  for  your  promptness.  You  have  grown 
hard  in  these  encounters,  and  I  know  your  military  genius 
perfectly  well." 

"Thanks,  my  lord.'* 

"Look,**  continued  the  Earl,  pointing  to  the  map;  "all 
these  lands  are,  as  you  know,  a  part  of  my  grant  from  the 
Crown;  this  is  the  South  Branch  of  the  Potomac,  and  you 
see  these  crosses.  You  know  better  than  I  do  myself  that 
they  are  houses  of  settlers.  I  do  not  wish  these  Indian 
devils  to  ruin  my  lands,  to  scare  off  settlers,  I  shall 
uever  return  to  England  at  that  rate." 

"  Does  your  lordship  think  of  going  back  f** 


FAmPAZ  ;  OB, 


Assuredly,"  said  Lord  Fairfax,  with  a  grim  look;  **I  do 
not  expect  to  Kve  all  my  days  here  in  the  wildemesB." 

"  I  thought  this  was  your  chosen  home."  i 
"  You  have  thought  wrongly,  then.    As  soon  as  I  have 

collected  money  enough  to  re-purchase  Denton,  I  shall  \ 

turn."  I 
"Denton,  my  lord?" 
**The  paternal  estate." 
*'How  wasit  sold?" 

"  By  my  rascally  guardians;  the  entail  was  cut  oflf  while  I  j 
was  a  minor,  and  thus  the  prophecy  of  old  Lord  Thomas, 
the  founder  of  our  house,  was  fulfilled — ^but  I  shall  disap- 
point him  yet." 

These  words  were  uttered  gloomily,  but  with  a  dark  fluah  \ 

upon  the  swarthy  features  of  the  Earl.  ; 

"What  prophecy  doe^  your  lordship  allude  to,  prayf*  j 

asked  the  Captain.  j 

Have  you  never  heard  it  ?"  \ 

'Never."  \ 

"Listen,  then;  the  story  is  not  long.    The  house  of  Fair-  ; 

fax  had  for  its  founder  and  head.  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax,  who  \ 

became,  for  services  to  the  Crovm,  Earl  of  Fairfax,  and  Baron  ■ 

of  Cameron,  somewhere  about  the  year  1600.    He  was  a  | 

sagacious  man,  and  held  great  sway  in  Yorkshire,  where  1 

lies  Denton — my  Denton  it  shall  be  again  if  there  is  money  ; 

enough  in  the  province  of  Virginia  to  re-purchase  it !    You  i 
do  not  understand.  Captain  Wagner,  the  feeUng  a  man  haa 
toward  a  place  which  not  only  his  earliest  years  have  been 

passed  in,  but  in  which  his  house  has  lived  for  centuries.  \ 

I  love  Denton,  its  park,  its  chase,  its  hills,  and  flats  and  \ 

forests;  the  old  dining-room,  the  fencing  gaUery,  the  doga  ] 

and  horses — yes,  the  very  rastle  of  the  great  oaks  around  j 

the  door !    Well,  sir,  that  estate,  as  I  said,  was  taken  from  ; 

me,  the  entail  was  cut  off  by  my  guardians,  who,  I  firmly  | 

beHeve,  wore  bribed  to  betray  my  interests.  And  so  the  ] 
prophecy  was  fulfilled.   But  I  have  not  told  you  what  tiiat 


THK  MASTER  OF  Q-REEWAY  OCmWR  7$ 


was.  I  have  said  that  the  founder  of  the  Earld  *m  was 
Sir  Thomas  Fakfax,  and  he  was  the  gran  dfather  of  the  Par- 
liamentary General,  the  "  Tom  Fairfax,"  of  the  ciYil  war, 
whom  you  have  doubtless  heard  of — whose  wife  was  present 
at  the  mock  trial  of  King  Charles,  and  created  so  much  con- 
fusion by  crying  that  her  husband  was  too  politic  to  be 
there.  But  I  digress.  The  character  of  his  grandson,  the 
young  general,  had  often  caused  Sir  Thomas  anxiety,  and 
so  clear-sighted  was  the  old  first  earl,  that  he  foresaw  that 
this  young  man  would  ruin  the  house  of  Fairfax.  This  was 
put  regularly  upon  record.  Charles  Fairfax,  son  of  the 
first  Earl,  wrote  it  down.  The  old  gentleman,  walking  in 
his  great  parlor  at  Denton,  about  the  year  1640 — a  centurj 
ago — was  much  troubled.  He  said  that  something  told  him 
that  General  Tom,  and  his  descendants  of  the  same  name, 
would  bring  the  house  of  Fairfax  to  an  end.  It  was  fulfilled, 
General  Fairfax  ahenated  his  family  estate  to  marry  into  a 
powerful  house.  A  century  afterward,  I  felt  the  effect  ol 
his  act,  and  Denton  escaped  from  my  hands — I  am  here." 

The  Earl  paused  and  looked  coldly  through  the  window. 

"And  this  exiled  your  lordship?"  asked  the  Captain, 
with  sympathy;  "  this  act  of  your  guardians?" 

"That  and  other  things,"  replied  Lord  Fairfax,  a  dark 
shadow  passing  over  his  brow.  "  My  life  has  been  unfor- 
tunate and  tragic;  Fate  has  sported  with  me,  and  woven  a 
wild  mesh  to  entangle  me;  I  have  been  mastered  in  the 
struggle,  and  struck  me  down.  But  I'll  not  yield !  Let  a 
million  prophecies  be  hurled  against  me — ^let  Fate  do  her 
worst  I    m  struggle  and  contend  with  her  till  I  die  !" 

The  Earl  set  his  teeth  close  and  was  silent. 

"  That  is  right,  my  lord,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  approv- 
ingly: "no  brave  man  knocks  under.    I  do  not  myself,  be- 
lieve in  prophecies,  nor  any  such  flummery — and  even  am 
disbeliever  in  witchcraft." 

"  I  have  had  doubts  myself,  on  the  suoject  of  this  latt», 
aDd  no  longer  place  as  much  confidence  in  astrology  either, 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


as  1  did  formerly,"  said  the  Ean,  coldly.  "  A  great  seer  in 
Italy  informed  me  that  I  would  recover  Denfcon,  and  hence 
my  struggling  thus  in  the  teeth  of  fate.  I  will  struggle  so 
to  the  end — and  I  will  collect  every  pistole  in  this  colony,  but 
I  will  have  it  back." 

"Ton  have  a  tolerable  grant  of  land  from  his  Majesty, 
here,  my  lord,  in  place  of  the  said  Denton,"  replied  Cap- 
tain Wagner ;  "why  not  be  content  ?" 

"I  am  not  content,  because  I  am  in  fact  a  landless  man. 
[  tell  you,  Captain  Wagner,  that  as  long  as  the  oaks  of  Den- 
on  are  not  mine — the  old  walls,  the  chase — everything — IH 
not  rest." 

"Well,  all  that  is  natural,  my  lord." 

"  Certainly.  And  now  you  wiU  understand  me  perfectly, 
f  own  a  fourth  of  Virginia,  and  I  wish  to  sell  it." 

"Zounds!"  said  the  Captain,  "it's  a  glorious  bit  of  land 
to  be  in  the  market.    I'd  Uke  to  buy  it." 

The  Earl  smiled  gloomily. 

"Tou  may  at  least  help  me  to  make  it  attractive  to  set- 
tlers, by  grants  to  whom  I  aim  at  realizing  what  I  need  to 
re-purchase  Denton." 

"An  empire  for  a  plantation!"  said  the  Captain;  "but 
every  man  to  his  humor.  Your  lordship  is  the  best  judge  ol 
your  own  wishes — now,  Td  take  Virginia — but  that's  noth- 
ing. I  don't  deny  that  there  are  drawbacks  in  the  shape 
of  bloody  savages,  but  we'll  grind  'em,  or  ITl  eat  my  own 
headr 


m  XlffTSB  OF  GBXEKWAT  CXnnMl  81 


ttCW  OAFTAIK  WAGHER  DECLARED  WAR   ON   HIS  PRIVATH  lOOOTTlTS 


him ;  but  this  even  was  more  pleasant  than  the  gloomy 
shadow  which  lay  before  upon  his  lips  and  forehead. 

''Captain,"  he  said,  with  his  sardonic  expression,  ''per- 
mit me  to  say  that  your  invention  in  respect  of  oaths  is 
truly  wonderful." 

"Many  thanks,my  lord,"  returned  the  Captain, evidently 
pleased  and  flattered;  "I  have  a  small  genius  in  that  line 
which  my  friends  have  complimented.  But  after  all  'tis  a 
bad  habit !  a  bad  habit !" 

And  the  worthy  looked  modestly  down,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  mock  self  depreciation  which  was  a  treat  to  the 
author  or  of  the  papers  in  the  "Spectator." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Captain,"  replied  the  Earl,  coolly, 
*  'but  'tis  nothing  to  our  present  purpose.  You  have  spoken 
of  the  Indians  in  time.  When  I  touch  on  the  subject  ol 
Denton,  and  the  wrong  done  to  me,  I  am  never  in  my  right 
mind.  What  do  you  counsel  ?  speak  plainly  and  without 
paraphrases.  I  require  the  assistance  of  a  man  who  knows 
the  habits  of  these  devils,  and  who  can  plan.  I  don't  care 
to  acknowledge  that  I  am  a  mere  nothing  in  council  as  Tom, 
the  General,  was  before  me.  I  am  irresolute — have  a  mor- 
bid inertness  clinging  to  my  mind;  it  is  only  in  the  chase 
ttiat  my  nerves  are  strung,  my  brain  clear  and  vigorous." 
bATe  seen  as  mwL  in  your  lordslup/  said  Oaptea 


AGAINST  LORD  FAIEFAX. 


iHE  stalwart  Borderer  uttered  these  words  with 
^  so  much  energy  and  expression,  that  Lord  Fair- 
j  fax  was  diverted  from  his  gloomy  thoughts,  and 
.  smiled.  It  was  the  old  grim  smile  habitual  with 


fiJKFAX;  OR, 


Wagner.    **  Ton  are  irresolute,  but  would  be  an  ezoeOent 

officer  for  a  cavalry  charge. 

"Speak  plainly,"  said  the  Earl,  indifferently,  "but  when 
you  have  finished  with  me,  come  to  the  threatened  Indiais 
attack.  I  know  nothing  of  these  matters.  Come,  yom 
counsel !    I  have  laid  before  you  the  particulars." 

"  My  counsel  is  easily  given,  or  the  d^jvil  take  me,"  said 
the  Captain.  "  'Sdeath,  my  lord,  I  know  these  Injun  ras- 
cals; they  hold  pawpawing  days  the  year  round,  and  will  be 
on  you  like  an  avalanche  some  morning;  you  should  prepare. 
Send  runners  to  the  South  Branch,  with  instructions  to 
assemble  the  men  with  all  the  pistols,  cohorns,  muskets, 
rifles  and  carbines  to  be  found:  entrust  commissions  to  thera 
for  persons  I  will  designate.  Such  men  as  Martin,  Miller, 
Howard,  Walker,  and  Kutledge— direct  the  levies  to  be  trained 
in  bush-fighting,  in  loading  while  running  at  full  speed,  and 
in  everything  connected  with  a  combat,  and  the  instruments 
of  the  said  combat,  down  to  the  cutting  off  the  necks  of  the 
balls  of  the  rifles.  Tou  have  no  time  in  an  attack  to  un- 
breech  and  extract  the  ball — consequently  a  rifle  is  done  up, 
or  the  devil  take  me.  I  will  repeat  to  your  lordship  all  the 
particulars,  and  you  shall  write  them  down,  and  entrust" 
them — ^with  the  commissions  you  have  the  right  as  County 
Lieutenant  to  issue — to  the  runners.  As  to  myself,  I  shall 
remain  here,  partly  on  private  affairs,"  said  the  Captain, 
curhng  his  moustache,  "and  partly  because  my  services 
may  be  needed  here  more  than  yonder.  It  is  not  out  ol 
probability,  even,  that  these  devils  will  make  their  swoop 
upon  Cedar  Cheek,  and  this  portion  of  the  manor,  from  the 
mountains  yonder  toward  the  Northwest.    Let  'em  com© !" 

"  That  is  a  wild  country,  is  it  not  ?" 

"The  ruins  of  an  overturned  world,  grown  over  with 
grass  and  trees,  and  inhabited  by  panthers  and  Injuns," 
Baid  Captain  Wagner,  succinctly. 

"Pardy,"  said  the  Earl,  with  his  grim  look;  "I  think  we 
may  expect  them  from  that  quarter.** 

^Therefore  I  shall  remain  here,  mj  lord   ZoxmdMl  I  wiB 


MH  laSTKB  OF  GBEBNWAY  COVHT.  88 


kave  an  opportimity,  even  here,  of  breaking  some  skuUs,  I 
warrant  you  :  I  hope  so  at  least ;  my  hand  is  getting  out  of 
practice.  Since  I  have  stopped  dragging  at  scalplocka  and 
eating  buffalo  hump  I  have  felt  badly.  Give  me  an  attack 
soon,  or  by  the  devil's  horns,  I  will  rust  to  death 

The  stem  smile  came  back  to  the  EarFs  face.  He  liked 
to  hear  the  sonorous  voice,  the  martial  oaths  even,  of  the 
rude  soldier:  they  were  but  additional  proofs  that  the  in- 
Btrument  which  gave  forth  such  sounds  must  be  robust  and 
jtrong.  The  Earl  needed  Captain  Wagner;  he  had  esti- 
mated his  own  character — its  strength  and  weakness — with 
perfect  exactness.  Brave,  impetuous,  even  wholly  feaiiess 
when  aroused,  he  was  yet  morbidly  irresolute  when  un- 
moved— could  not  bring  himself  to  any  determination — had 
scarcely  power  to  decide  upon  the  most  obvious  courses. 
He  would  often  spend  long,  weary,  miserable  hours  thus,  in 
his  great  dining-room,  his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  his 
thoughts  wandering  back  to  the  past,  or  forward  to  the  fu- 
ture; and  would  only  rouse  himself  at  last  to  dash  off  to  the 
forest,  there  to  drown  his  morbid  feelings  in  the  excitements 
of  the  chase,  as  other  men  do  in  the  stimulant  of  wine. 
Thus  the  sight  of  Captain  Wagner  was  always  welcome  to 
the  Earl;  he  was  glad  to  hear  the  loud  voice,  the  rattle  of 
•purs,  the  clatter  of  the  sword;  they  kept  him  from  think- 
ing. He  needed  a  counsellor,  too,  as  has  been  seen,  and 
thus  the  soldier  stood  high  in  the  Earl's  regards. 

Well  remain  V  he  said,  in  reply  to  the  Captain's  last 
words,  "  I  shall  have  need  for  you  in  other  matters,  not  so 
warlike." 

"  In  what,  pray,  my  lord  V 

"  They  speak  of  a  trial  for  witchcraft  here  soon.'* 

"Whor 

•*  These  gentlemen  justices  of  Frederick,  or  rather  one  oi 
khdm,  a  Mr.  Gideon  Hastyluck." 

"I  know  him.  A  crop-eared  rascal!"  said  the  Captaia; 
'aoimdfil  one  itcixeB  to  kick  him — this  Master  Hastyluok« 


fAIEFAX,  08, 


or  Hajste-thee-Luke,  as  he  was  formerly  called.  Bat  who  06 
the  earth  is  to  be  charged  with  witchciaft?'* 

"  An  old  settler  here  in  the  Fort  MountaiD.** 

"His  name?" 

"  PoweU,"  said  the  Earl. 

"Old  Powell?  what  folly!  A  more  peaceful  man  I  neyor 
knew." 

"Well,  I  take  no  part  in  the  affair;  let  the  gentlemen 

justices  follow  their  own  ideas." 

"  They  have  none,  my  lord;  they  really  have  not,  many 
o$  them,  capacity  to  follow  their  noses,  even." 

"  I  am  sorry  therefor,  inasmuch  as  I  shall  have  to  submit 
to  them,  very  soon,  a  proposition  in  which  I  am  interested.** 

"What  is  that?" 

"I  wish  the  county  seat  of  Frederick  County  to  be 
Stephen sburg,  over  here." 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  said  the  Captain,  collecting  his  forces, 

"WeU,  there  are  gentlemen  who  desire  that  Winchestei 
should  be  selected." 

"And  ladies  too,  pardy  I" 

"What,  Captain?" 

"  Nothing,  my  lord ;  I  only  said  that  there  were  ladies 
who  wished  Winchester  to  be  chosen." 
"Indeed!  why?" 
"Who  have  property  there." 

"I  regret  it;  but  I  cannot  yield;  my  interests  all  point  to 
Stephensburg." 

"Let  us  argue  that  point,  my  lord,"  said  the  Captain;  "1 
know  that  Stephensburg,  from  its  position,  as  "  

"Enough,  Captain,"  said  the  Earl,  indifferently;  "spare 
your  logic,  I  have  determined  to  have  the  county  seat  at 
Stephensburg,  if  my  influence  can  compass  it." 

"  Good  I  then  it  only  remains  for  me,  in  due  and  honor- 
able form,  to  declare  war  on  my  private  account  against 
yofu  lordship  in  this  aflfair." 

"Your  sftidFair&x. 


_  # 

THE  VAfSTEBi  OF  01I1ZNWAT  OODU 


Tou  Yrisii  Winchester  to  be  selected  f 
Yes,  indeed,  my  lord." 

"For  private  reasons." 

"  Ah  I  a  ladj  is  concerned;  I  have  heard  of  your  gallantry 
very  often,  Captain.    A  lady!" 

"  I  do  not  deny  it,  my  lord,"  said  the  Captain. 

**Well,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  cannot  oblige  yonrsell 
and  your  ^ir  friend  in  this  matter.  I  have  determined  on 
Stephensbnrg." 

"And  I,  my  lord,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  "have  deter- 
mined on  Winchester.  Zounds  I  with  all  possible  respect 
lor  your  earlship,  Winchester  shall  be  the  county  seat." 

The  melancholy  smile  flitted  over  Fairfax's  face. 

"How  will  you  compass  it?"  he  said,  "I  have  a  majority 
of  the  justices  already  in  my  favor." 

"  How  large  a  majority,  pray,  my  lord?" 

The  Earl  smiled  again. 

"  Tou  seem  to  forget  that  you  have  declared  war,"  he  said^ 
"  but  this  moment.  I  will  afford  an  enemy  no  information, 
whatsoever." 

"  Ah,  that  is  just,  or  may  the  devil  take  me — aright,  right! 
I  must  do  my  own  nosing-out,  I  see — and  faith,  as  your  lord- 
ship has  so  much  the  start  of  me,  I  wiU  commence  at  once." 

"  And  I  promise  not  to  bear  the  least  grudge,  Captain,  i^ 
you  succeed,  since  we  are  fairly  pitted,  arms  in  hand." 

"  Except  that  my  sword  is  shattered  to  the  hilt,  when  I 
enter  the  contest;  yours  whole  and  shai'p." 

"  It  is  the  fortune  of  war:  so  much  the  more  glory  if  yon 
overcome  me. 

**  Very  well,  my  lord.  I  promise  you  to  give  you  a  hard 
fight,  and  from  this  moment  I  sound  the  trumpet,"  said  the 
Captain,  rising. 

"  Where  are  yon  going?**  said  the  iiai? 


86 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


"I  dedine  to  reply,"  returned  the  Captain,  ctuiningly;  "1 
follow  your  excellency." 

"Not  a  bad  hit,  upon  my  lionor;  you  are  invaluable  to 
me.  Captain;  you  alone  of  all  my  friends  make  me  laugh- 
Go  then:  but  let  us  empty  a  cup  before  your  departure." 

"Willingly,  my  lord." 

And  so  Captain  Wagner  tarried  and  emptied  a  fair  flag' 
gon  of  Jamaica-— wine  he  cared  not  for — to  his  own  success, 
Then  assuring  his  lordship  that  on  the  next  day,  the  in^ 
str^ctions  for  the  border  settlers  would  be  ready  for  him, 
the  Captain  mounted  his  horse,  and  took  the  road  to 
Ordimury- 


xvn. 

MONSIEUR  JAMBOt's  DEATh's  HEAL. 

-J^N  the  main  apartment  of  Mynheer  Van  Doring's 
Ordinary,  the  fair  Mrs.  Butterton  is  dancing  a 
galliard  to  the  music  of  Monsieur  Auguste  Hy- 
pohte  Jambot's  fiddle. 
That  gentleman  is  clad  in  a  picturesque  coat  with  barrel 
cnffs  turned  back  to  the  elbows,  a  blue  satin  waistcoat  fit- 
ting tightly  to  his  thin,  slight  figure,  and  pumps  adorned, 
in  place  of  buckles,  with  immense  rosettes  of  red  ribbon. 
Monsieur  Jambot  is  thus  very  picturesque — but  the  widow  is 
resplendent.  She  is  dressed  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow; 
she  wears  rings,  breastpins  and  bracelets  without  number; 
and  when  she  lifts  her  skirt  gracefully  in  the  animated 
dance,  the  other  hand  balanced  akimbo  on  her  side,  she 
makes  a  full  display  of  a  pair  of  substantial  ankles  cased 
in  real  silk  stockings,  and  large,  serviceable  feet  plunged 
in  slippers  of  immense  elegance. 

The  dance  comes  to  an  end,  and  the  fair  widow  fans 
herself,  saying: 

''How  did  I  get  through,  Monsieur?" 
"Elegant!  elegant!"  cried  Monsieur  Jambot,  "but  next 
time  you  shall  step  not  so  quick,not  mjig^mac/ier  ema^/a/ne/*' 
"Not  so  w/iaf?^^  asked  the  fair  widow,  laughing. 
"Ah  my  poor  head!"  said  Monsieur  Jambot,  ceasing  for 
a  moment  to  tune  his  violin,  in  order  to  press  his  forehead 
with  a  theatrical  air :  "my  poor  head — I  no  understand 
r Anglais;  I  mean  you  step  out  too — what  you  call  him — 
vife^  too  quick,  too  spirited:  voila  le  77iotr 
"Well,  let  us  try  again." 
"Same,  madame?" 


18 


YAIBFAX;  01^ 


"Oh^  yes  I  are  you  tired  of  it?" 

"AJi,  non,  non — I  could  not  be  tired  of  you  when  yon 
dance/' 

"  Tola  are  very  gallant,  Monsieur." 
''(Test  \yrair 

**  Well,  then,  play  for  me  again.  Do  you  like  that  tune  ?* 
•*'Tis  beautiful" 

"  I  think  so  too.    So  you  are  willing  to  try  again 
«  Ram  r 

And  Monsieur  Jambot  struck  up  a  Kvely  air,  and  Mistresa 
Butterton  tripped  gaily  down  the  room  to  the  quick  music, 
her  arms  akimbo,  her  wrist  bent  and  resting  on  her  side, 
her  eyes  sparkling,  her  red-heeled  shoes  merrily  clattering 
on  the  brightly  scoured  floor. 

c^est  grand  r  cried  Monsieur  Jambot;  "yon  might 
dance  the  contre  dance  before  his  Majeste  Louis  le  Grand 
himself." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mrs.  Butterton,  fanning  her- 
self, and  casting  a  languishing  glance  upon  her  companion — 
it  was  to  keep  herself  in  practice — "I  am  glad  you  think  so: 
for  I  shall  go  to  a  number  of  froKcs  before  returning  to  Bel- 
haven,  and  I  wish  to  show  the  folks  up  here  the  difference 
between  the  town  and  the  country.  I  must  not  dance  any 
more  jig  tunes,  for  they  dance  them  very  well  here:  now  a 
minuet  is  so  much  better:  tJiat  is  a  court  dance!" 

"  A  royal  dance,  madame !  But  parole  d'honr^r,  yon 
dance  minuet  most  elegant." 

"  Oh,  you  jest  I" 

"Jest?  never  I" 

"  Shall  we  try  one,  then  ?" 

'*  Out,  madame:  I  will  play  and  dance  also.** 

When  Monsieur  Jambot  danced  the  minuet  he  became, 
for  the  time,  a  different  person,  so  loftily  did  he  hold  hia 
powdered  head,  with  so  graceful  and  stately  an  amenity  did 
he  move  on  the  points  of  his  high-heeled  shoes  to  the  slow, 
gliding  music    This  change  now  passed  over  his  oonnte< 


MB  MASTER  OF  OltEENWAY  OOUOT. 


n&nce  and  manner.  He  held  his  violin  as  a  monarch  doea 
his  sceptre;  he  took  up,  then  laid  down  his  cocked  hat,  aa 
an  emperor  would  his  crown;  his  whole  person  became  at 
once  stiff  and  supple,  erect  and  inclined.  The  lady  was  not 
behind-hand.  She  drew  herself  up  in  a  stately  way,  as- 
sumed a  gracious  and  condescending  smile,  and  raised  grace* 
fully  her  long  skirt,  ready  to  step  forward  at  the  first  notes 
of  the  violin. 

Monsieur  Jambot  commenced  with  a  low  prelude,  full  of 
elegance.  The  instrument,  which  had  at  first  shook  from  its 
strings  a  bright  shower  of  laughing  and  sparkling  notes  in 
the  gay  gavotte,  keeping  perfect  time  to  the  rattle  of  the 
lady's  sHppers  on  the  floor  of  the  apartment,  now  changed 
its  tone  completely,  as  if  ashamed  of  such  inane  gaiety  and 
unseemly  mirth.  It  now  gave  forth  a  slow,  ceremonious 
strain,  such  as  was  fit  and  proper  for  great  lords  and  ladies 
in  princely  hall  assembled,  to  bow  and  courtesy  to  each 
other  by :  even  for  kings  to  incline  their  royal  heads  to  in  a 
graceful,  royal  way,  leading  out  princesses  in  gilded,  picture 
walled  saloons. 

As  to  Monsieur  Jambot,  he  seemed  to  be  perfectly  happy, 
he  could  play  and  dance  very  well  at  the  same  time,  and  on 
this  occasion  he  excelled  himself.  He  glided,  he  ambled,  he 
simpered,  he  bowed,  his  very  eyes  seemed  to  be  full  of 
music,  and  to  be  ready  to  dissolve  away  in  fluttering  de- 
light. Those  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  fair  widow,  and  they 
expressed,  in  a  way  quite  unmistakable,  the  condition  of  the 
owner's  heart — the  state  of  his  feelings.  It  was  very  plain, 
from  those  languishing,  and  admiring  glances,  that  Mon- 
sieur Jambot  was  a  victim  to  the  helle  passion,  as  he  called 
it;  and  would  rather  prefer  to  die  for  her  than  otherwise. 

Not  to  do  injustice  to  the  fair  widow's  discrimination,  we 
Mrill  add  that  she  understood  both  the  look  and  the  state  of 
Monsieur  Jambot's  feelings  perfectly  well.  She  was  well 
asBured  that  he  was  one  of  her  most  ardent  adorers,  and 
Umi  be  aspired  to  her  haad;  bat  whether  this  hand  was  to 


90 


fAlBFAX;  OB, 


be  rednced  into  possession  by  the  dancing-raaeter,  or  b| 

Captain  Wagner,  the  reader  will  discover  lq  due  time. 

And  now  they  approached  each  other  in  the  gracefu] 
dance,  bowing,  smiHng,  and  rolling  their  eyes — in  which 
latter  exercise  we  must  say  Monsieur  Jambot  very  far  ex- 
celled his  fair  friend — and  the  music  seemed  to  sigh  forth  a 
species  of  luxurious  delight.  The  lady,  with  her  skirt  raised 
mth  one  hand,  the  other  hand,  oi  rather  the  wrist  thereof, 
resting  on  her  side — executed  profuse  bows,  and  so  to  the 
triumphant  fiddle  of  Monsieur  Jambot,  the  dance  went  on 
its  way  in  triumph. 

He  wound  up  the  minuet  with  a  graceful  flourish,  impro- 
vised for  the  occasion,  and  full  of  beauty;  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment,  sank  upon  his  knees  before  the 
fair  lady,  grasping  her  plump  hand,  which  hand  he  pressed 
rapturously  to  his  Hps.  The  lady  stood  calmly  fanning  her- 
self with  her  disengaged  hand,  and  looking  at  her  admirer 
with  a  roguish  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 

The  parties  were  arranged  in  this  elegant  and  striking 
tableau,  when  suddenly  the  widow  turned  abruptly,  and 
Monsieur  Jambot  rose  angrily,  brushing  his  knees.  These 
movements  were  caused  by  a  very  simple  circumstance,  a 
circumstance  which  assuredly,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  hu- 
man events,  was  not  calculated  to  overwhelm  one,  or  cause 
any  profoimd  astonishment.  Not  to  keep  the  reader  longer 
in  ignorance,  the  lady  and  her  admirer  had  been  startled  by 
tlie  arrival  of  a  third  personage,  and  this  arrival  was  an- 
nounced by  the  form  of  words  : 

**  Snout  of  the  dragon  I  what  do  I  see  I  Kneeling,  or  the 
devil  fly  away  with  me  1" 

And  Captain  Wagner,  the  toof-strokes  of  whose  horse  had 
been  drowned  by  the  music  of  the  violin,  stalked  into  tJhe 
room — a  dreadful  frown  upon  his  brow,  his  martial  spurs 
jingling  as  he  strode,  his  heavy  sword  half  drawn,  and  clat- 
tering portentously  agaii^t  his  legs,  cased  in  theii*  hmrj 
boota 


I  XVHL 

HOT  CAPTAIN  WAGKIS  JMDIOTED  Hl»  FUTOBl  FAIOI.  j 

gefife^^ONSIETJE  JAMBOT  drsw  himself  up,  and  j 

^  claimed  in  a  theatrical  tone  :  J 
^j^Mj  ^      Malediction  /" 

"  What  is  that  you  say,  sir     eaid  Captain  Wag- 
ner,  sternly.    "I  do  not  understand  your  barbarous  lingo, 

though  Mistress  Butterton  seems  to  comprehend  it  perfectly,  i 

or  the  devil  seize  mel"  | 

And  Captain  Wagner  threw  upon  the  fair  widow  a  look  i 

which  nearly  took  away  her  breath.    She  scarcely  knew  | 

what  to  reply,  and  found  ail  her  presence  of  mind  unequal  ;j 

to  the  task  of  repelling  the  valiant  Captain,  and  asserting  ^ 
her  own  right  of  action.    She  finally  decided  to  burst  into 

tears.  j 

"You  are  a  cruel  man!  that  you  are,  Captain,**  she  | 
sobbed,  "  to  speak  to  me  in  that  way — that  you  are  1'* 

The  Captain  was  proof  against  tears;  he  knew  the  sex,  as  | 

he  often  said,  and  was  not  to  be  moved  by  such  trifles.  i 

"  I  was  not  addressing  you,  madam,"  he  said,  frowning, 

"but  this  gentleman,  who  used  toward  me  the  highly  in«  j 

jurious  term,  malediction.    In  the  whole  course  of  my  life,  ! 

madam,  I  have  never  been  called  a  malediction  by  any  one  j 

before,  and  I  now  inform  Mr.  Jambo,  that  whatever  may  b«  : 

the  fashion  in  his  own  frog-eating  country,  in  this  country  \ 

when  one  man  calls  another  a  malediction,  it  is  a  declaration  i 

•f  mortal  enmity — ^in  which  Hght  I  receive  it  I"  i 

"  SacreT  groaned  Monsieur  Jambot,  between  his  denohed  i 

teeth,  "  oe  maudit  capUainef   I  will  fight  birn — '^nU  abolish  j 

him  from  M  &oe  of  zis  earUiP  l 

i 

I 


••Abolish  mel*'  cried  Captain  Wagner,  in<fignafcly;  "m»| 
ttie  devil  take  me,  but  we  shall  see.  I  have  heard  that  yo» 
teach  fencing,  Mr.  Jambo,  as  well  as  capering;  well,  draw 
your  sword,  pardy,  or  I  will  nail  you,  Monsieur,  to  thai 
table  I" 

Monsieur  Jambot  jumped  back,  for  Captain  Wagner*i 
Bword  flashed  forth  like  lightning  from  its  scabbard. 

"  Tour  sword !  your  sword cried  the  Captain. 

Monsieur  Jambot  was  no  coward;  and  now  thoroughly 
aroused  by  the  presence  and  insults  of  his  hated  rival,  he  e»» 
ecuted  two  steps,  professionally  speaking,  to  the  mantel- 
piece, and  took  down  a  good  rapier  which  hung  there  among 
pepper-pods,  balls  of  twine,  and  ears  of  corn;  with  which  he 
turned  and  faced  his  adversary. 

"Begar!"  he  cried,  in  a  great  rage,  "we  shall  see  what 
we  shall  see !" 

But  before  the  Captain  could  put  himself  into  position,  a 
loud  screech  was  heard,  and  Mrs.  Butterton  rushed  between 
them  with  tears  and  sobs. 

"  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake  I'*  she  cried,  "  oh,  no  fighting — oh 
you  must  not !  Captain — Mr.  Jambot — you  shaD  not !  Put 
up  your  swords — this  moment! — or — or — I  shall — faint — 
my  smelling-bottle — in — my — room —  Monsieur — Jam  I — 
Oapr  

With  which  faintly-uttered  words  the  lady  closed  her 
eyes  ;  then  her  form  swayed  backward  and  forward,  h» 
head  drooped,  her  feet  bent  beneath  her,  and  just  as  Mon- 
sieur Jambot,  with  all  the  gallantry  of  the  Frenchman  and 
the  lover,  rushed  from  the  room  to  bring  the  smelling-bottle, 
Bhe  yielded  to  "  nerves,*'  and  sank  back  into  the  sturdy  armi 
of  the  valiant  Captain. 

Oh,  how  could  you  I"  she  said,  languidly  opening  hef 
eyes  a  moment  afterward,  and  drawing  back, 

A  thousand  apologies,  my  dearest  madam-  -I  have  done 
wrong — ^forgive  me !"  groaned  her  admirer. 

^Ohp  Oaptain T  mxirmared  the  kdj. 


VAIBFAX;  OB, 


**  Bat  to  see  your  beautiful  hand  pressed  to  another's  b'psi 
— to  see  another  kneeling  to  you,  which  individual  you  might 
in  another  moment  have  raised  from  his  knees — May  the  fiend 
seize  me,  madam !"  cried  Captain  Wagner,  "  but  I  will  yet  have 
my  revenge  on  that  perfidious  rival — revenge,  revenge  I** 

The  lady  drew  back  pettishly. 

"You  care  nothing  for  me,"  she  sobbed^  "I  am  angry,  sir 
and  I  won't  be  treated  so,  sir.  Ton  treat  me  too  badly — 
that  you  do." 

"  Tears  ^"  cried  Captain  Wagner,  tearing  his  hair,  "  team 
caused  by  me  1" 
"  Tes,  sir,  by  you." 

"  By  me — ^the  most  devoted  of  your  admirers — of  yoiuv— 

yes,  of  your"  

"  Enemies — ^yes,  the  most  bitter  enemy  I  have." 
"  Madam  1" 

'^You  would  kill  my  friends,  because  they  are  my 
friends. " 
"No,  no." 

"You  would  fight  Monsieur  Jambot." 
"  He  is  a  good  swordsman,  I  know  welL** 
"And  if  he  is  ?" 

"He  might  run  through  the  midriff  me  myself — ^the  most 
faithful  of  adorers;  but  that  would  be  nothing,"  added  Cap- 
tain Wagner,  gloomily;  "a  broken  heart  and  a  clay-cold 
oorpse  go  well  together." 

"  Whose  heart  is  broken,  sir  ?*' 

"Mine,  madam,  by  your  coldness — ^your  nniindness." 
"  Captain,"  sighed  the  lady. 

"You  turn  all  my  virtues  into  faults,  or  may  the  devfl 
take  me  I" 

"  Oh,"  remonstrated  the  lady. 

"  If  I  show  jealousy,  you  laugh  at  me;  if  I  wish  to  drivo 
off  other — ^yes,  other  rivals,  madam,  you  quarrel  with  meb* 
have  not  quarraULsd." 


H 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


**  Ton  feign  not  to  perceive  that  1  am  the  most  devoido 
of"  

The  lady  turned  aside  her  head:  the  Captain  pressed  to 
his  lips  the  hand  which  was  abandoned  to  him:  the  otnef 
covered  her  face.  Just  at  this  moment,  Monsieur  Jambot 
re-entered,  and  stood  transfixed  with  horror. 

As  Captain  "Wagner,  in  his  profound  wrath  and  astonish- 
ment, had  cried  out  violently:  "Snout  of  the  Dragon  1*  — 
so  now,  Monsieur  Jambot,  with  rage  quite  as  profound,  sa- 
hited  his  adversary  with  the  words  : 

"  MUles  diables  !  what  do  I  see  ?" 

The  Captain  twirled  his  moustache. 
You  see  me,"  he  said,  curtly. 
And  who  are  you,  scwref" 

"  Captain  Julius  Wagner,  at  your  service,  sir.'* 
Captain  Waggeneur,  you  shall  answer  to  me  ads  1"  cried 
Monsieur  Jambot. 

"  Answer  what  ?" 

"For  your  insult  to  me,"  replied  the  Frenchman,  adroitly 
avoiding  a  commital  of  himself. 

"  I  will  answer  anything,"  said  the  Captain.  But  perceiv- 
ing the  eyes  of  the  fair  widow  fixed  beseechingly  upon  him: 
"still,"  he  continued,  "I  am  not  aware,  Monsieur  Jambot, 
that  I  have  insulted  you  half  so  grossly  as  you  have  me  ?" 

"  Comment  r 

"  Did  you  not  characterize  me  as  a  malediction  f  answer 
me  that" 

"  But,"  said  the  lady,  delighted  to  see  the  two  adversaries 
gradually  cooling  and  speaking  in  more  amicable  tones, 
"  that  is  not  an  insult,  I  am  sure.  Captain.  Malediction  is 
— I  don't  know  exactly  what — ^but  it  is  not  an  insult." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  madam,  and  Monsieur  Jambo  bus 
not  insulted  me  by  this  malediction^  I  am  ready  to  end  oui 
quarrel." 

Monsieur  Jambot  bowed  with  ceremony. 
^Ik  shall  end,"  h%  said^  eoldly. 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREEWA7  OOT33Wr 


**Qt)od!"  continued  the  Captain,  "and  now,  nckadam,  let 
me  proceed  to  business.    I  am  here  purely  on  business," 

Monsieur  Jambot  hearing  these  words,  understood  that  it 
would  not  be  poHte  for  him  to  remain:  so  taking  liis  fiddle 
from  the  floor,  and  restoring  the  rapier  to  its  place,  he  be* 
took  himself  to  the  porch,  where,  seated  on  the  wooden 
bench,  he  discoursed  sweet  music,  soft  enough  to  penetrate 
the  very  heart  of  his  mistress. 

"  Business,  Captain  T'  asked  the  lady,  seating  herself  near 
the  table. 

"  Business,  madam,**  said  Captain  Wagner,  taking  out  a 
paper,  upon  which  were  written,  in  huge,  sprawling  letters 
with  a  pencil,  a  number  of  names;  "your  business." 

And  he  seated  himself  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  narro'W 
table,  spreading  out  the  paper  between  them. 

"  My  business  ?" 

"Yes,  madam — that  which  brought  you  to  the  Valley.*' 

«0h,  my  lots?" 

"  In  Winchester — ^yes. ' 

"  I  now  recollect  your  kind  offer  of  assistance.  La  1  Cap« 
lain,  you  put  yourself  to  a  heap  of  trouble." 

And  the  lady  gently  agitated  her  fan  of  swan's  feathers, 
gazing  thereon. 

"  Trouble  ?  no,  nothing  is  trouble  for  which  we  expect  to 
be  munificently  paid,  pardy  I" 

The  lady  cast  down  her  eyes  with  a  blush. 

"  Thus,  then,  it  is,"  said  the  Captain,  leaning  over  the 
iable,  and  caressing  his  martial  moustache,  as  with  hip 
enormous  hand  he  pointed  out  the  names  written  on  the 
paper  in  a  double  row,  "  thus  it  is.  At  the  next  meeting  of 
the  Honorable  Justices  of  the  County  of  Frederick — which 
icimty,  by  the  horns  of  the  devil ! — excuse  me,  madam — 
it  ou\d  b^  a  kingdom,  for  it  reaches  from  the  Blue  Ridge 
hi  re  to  the  Mississippi — at  the  next  meeting  of  the  Court 
here,  mad^m,  the  county  seat,  as  you  well  know,  will  bf 


M 


FAXRVAX;  OS| 


determmed  on.   It  wiU  be  either  Stephensbnrg  over  thex^ 

or  Wincliester  "  

"  Yes,  Captain/' 

"And  your  interest,"  said  the  Captain,  in  a  business  tone^ 
^points  to  Winchester?" 

"  Yes,  indeed — I  have  some  excellent  lots  there,  as  T  hftre 
before  told  you." 

"Goodl  well,  I  have  determined,  as  I  informed  you< 
madam,  that  Winchester  shall  be  the  place." 

"La!  Captain! — but  how  can  you — there  is  Lord  Fair 
tax,  a  sweet  nobleman,  I  am  sure,  but  he  is  determined  to 
have  Stephensbnrg  chosen." 

"Whether  Lord  Fairfax  is  a  sweet  nobleman  or  not,  mj 
dear  madam,  is  not  the  question:  nor  which  of  these  two 
places  he  inchnes  to.  I  have  time  before  court-day,  and 
I  will  use  it  in  your  favor." 

"  Oh,  thank  you — ^you  are  very  good." 

"No:  by  no  means:  as  I  said  before,  my  reward  wii 
come  from  you.  But  that  is  beside  the  question.  I  pro- 
cured from  your  worthy  father,  whom  I  met  on  the  road 
coming  hither,  these  names  of  the  justices.  You  will  per- 
ceive that  ithej  are  very  nearly  balanced  equally — for  and 
against  Winchester.  Two  names,  you  see,  are  marked 
Doubtful.    They  are  those  of  Argal  and  Hastyluck." 

The  Captain  leaned  over  the  table,  as  did  the  lady:  they 
were  a  great  contrast :  he  with  his  dark,  martial  face,  black 
moustache,  and  grotesque  humor  in  the  eyes,  buried  under 
their  shaggy  brows;  she  with  her  fair,  plump  face,  and  red 
lips,  and  affected  simper.  Their  eyes  met,  and  an  odd 
'smile  passed  over  the  features  of  each. 

"I  will  bring  over  Argal  and  Hastyluck,"  said  Captaui 
Wagner,  watching  his  companion  like  a  dog  with  head 
lowered,  "  and  Winchester  will  be  chosen.'*  « 
"In  spite  of  Lord  Fairfax  ?" 
"  Yes,  indeed;  in  «pite  of  everything  1" 
••Ton  are  so  kindl" 


«Ha,ha  r 

"  Tou  are  the  most  disinterested  person  in  the  world.** 
"No,  lam  selfish." 
''La!  Captain/' 

"  And  in  proof  of  it  I  shall  claim  the  reward  for  my  ser 
fioes.*' 

The  lady  blushed,  casting  down  her  eyes. 
"  Will  yon  grant  me  what  I  ask,  should  I  succeed  ?" 
"  Oh,  Captain,"  murmured  his  companion,  with  a  flatiec^ 
ing  heart. 
"  K  it  is  reasonable  ?** 
"If — ^it — is  reasonable — ^y — es." 

"Good!"  cried  Captain  Wagner,  rising,  and  bringing 
his  fist  down  on  the  table,  like  a  battering  ram,  "then  Win- 
chester shall,  from  this  time,  be  the  county-seat,  and  shall 
grow  wealthy,  and  increase  in  population  and  in  siae^  and  in 
importance  and  in  glory!  Yes,  I  have  determined  upon 
that!  Stephensburg  shall  have  its  foolish  ambition  over- 
turned; for  the  more  I  ponder  upon  the  matter,  the  more 
proper  does  it  seem  that  Winchester — ^where  your  lots  are, 
my  dearest  madam — should  be  the  capital  town  of  this  great 
county.  I  rejoice,  not  only  for  my  own  present  sake  and 
yours,  that  such  will  be  the  event:  but  I  see  with  pride  that 
brilliant  future,  when  the  name  of  Captain  Julius  Wagner 
will  be  loved  and  respected  by  thousands  now  unborn: 
when  they  will  possibly  erect  statues  to  him  here  in  this 
beautiful  land;  and  where — who  knows? — some  one  of  that 
idle  and  disreputable,  but  still  useful  class  called  authors, 
shall  write  out  an  account  of  my  services  in  this  matter,  and 
print  them  with  types  such  as  are  used  for  books,  and  so  in- 
form the  world  of  my  patriotism  ! — yes,  of  my  chivalry,  my 
devotedness,  my — ^hum!  I  think  I  see  that  bright  day 
coming,  and  I  shall  leave  in  my  will  a  sum  of  money  with 
which  my  childaren,  or  grandchildren — if  I  have  any,  which 
heaven  grant ! — shall  pay  one  of  those  scribblers,  or  Grub 
stareels,  as  I  have  heard  them  called,  to  write  about  my  Ule. 

6 


FAIBfAX;  OB^ 


Aiid  therein,  madam,  your  virtues  will  shine  I  therein  yotl 
Trill  be  rendered,  from  your  connecfcion  with  myself  immor- 
tal 1 — therein  we  will  go  down  to  posterity  hand  in  hand, 
as  I  trust  we  shall  do,  even — hum? —  my  horse  there  I" 
cried  the  Captain,  breaking  off  in  the  middle  of  his  eloquent 
speech. 

"  I  am  going,"  he  added;  "  and  now  rest  in  peace,  msid 
mL    Your  interests  are  mine." 

With  which  speech  Captain  Wagner  took  his  Imv^. 


VfCB  UASTEB  OF  QBE£3r«7A7  OOUBIV 


SIX. 

OLD  MEMOEIE& 

HTLE  these  scenes  were  occuring  at  the  Ordin 
ary,  the  master  of  Greenway  Coui^,  leaned  baeS 
in  his  tall  carved  chair,  absorbed  in  gloomy 
thought. 

His  pale  face  indicated  some  concealed  emotion — his  lips 
were  contracted  sorrowfully,  and  the  long  eyelashes  rested 
on  his  pallid  cheek.  He  remained  long  thus  buried  in 
thought  ;  and  then  wearily  rose  erect  in  his  seat  and 
sighed. 

"Strange!  very  strange !"  the  Earl  muttered,  "that  fated 
likeness !  Never  have  I  seen  reproduced  in  human  face  » 
more  perfect  resemblance  to  another  !  Falconbridge  ?  Fd,l- 
conbridge  ?  Whence  does  he  come  ?  Pshaw !  why  should 
I  wish  to  find  out?  'Tis  one  of  those  fancies  whick 
seize  on  men  at  times  :  and  yet  I  swear,  as  I  bent 
over  him,  when  something  drove  me  in  the  dead  of  night  to 
his  chamber,  I  could  have  taken  my  oath  that  the  face  wa« 
the  very  same — eyes,  lips  and  everything !  How  like,  too, 
the  courage  which  made  him  spring  up  and  pursue  mel 
There  I  recognize  the  likeness  again,  as  in  the  form — in  the 
spirit  as  in  the  outward  lineaments.  Strange  world!— 
strange  life  1" 

And  for  some  moments  the  Earl  remained  silent,  hia 
breast  shaken  with  sighs  ;  his  lips  quivering.  Then  he 
seemed  to  realize  the  folly  of  his  emotioB^ :  and  by  a  great 
effort  controlled  himself. 

"What  madness !"  he  murmured,  "  thus  to  yield  to  the 
ghost  of  the  past,  and  shake  like  Hamlet  at  a  shadow  1  II] 
be  stronger  and  colder.  He  will  come  to-day  or  to-morrow, 
Mid  I  iDust  not  excite  attention  by  my  maimer.    I  mustgo^ 


IGO  ■PAIEIAX;  OB, 

em  myself.     Yes — the  past  must  be  buried ;  it  is  gone. 

"Why  rake  in  the  ashes  for  burnt  out  hopes  and  memories? 
I  am  thousands  of  leagues  from  the  scenes  of  other  days 
—let  me  not  recall  them;  let  them  sleep!" 

And  rising,  the  Earl  put  on  his  hat  and  gloves,  and  fol- 
lowed by  his  stag-hounds,  wandered  forth  to  the  prairie  still 
pondering,  and  pursuing  his  secret  thoughts. 


IME  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAI  COTTBXl 


XX. 

FIRST  LOVE. 

EOEGE  pushed  his  horse  gaily  up  the  motintaiii 
road,  and  ere  long  reached  the  spur  upon  which 
was  situated  the  cabin  of  his  singular  host  of  the 
day  before. 

As  he  approached  it  he  observed  above  the  great  root  in 
rear,  a  Ught  cloud  of  smoke  which  puzzled  him  greatly.  It 
plainly  did  not  issue  from  the  chimney  of  the  house  ;  and  as 
no  outbuildings  were  attached  f/y  the  cabin,  the  smoke  could 
not  be  that  of  the  kitchen.  Still,  there  it  was  :  an  unmis- 
takable cloud,  rising  slowly  it  seemed  from  the  very  fissure 
of  the  great  mass  of  rock,  and  gentlf  floating  away  among 
the  fir  trees. 

George  was  still  occupied  with  this  singular  phenomenon, 
when  all  at  once  a  form  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  house 
which  routed  aU  his  speculations,  and  gave  him  something 
else  to  think  about. 

It  was  the  figure  of  Cannie  :  and  in  an  instant  the  youth 
had  thrown  himself  from  his  horse,  and  held  in  his  own  one 
of  the  soft  hands  of  the  girl,  which  she  abandoned  to  him 
with  her  old  air  of  grave  sweetness  and  simplicity.  There 
was  much  less  constraint  in  her  air  now,  however,  than  eJ, 
first.  She  had  evidently  become  acquainted  with  George  ' 
and  thus  her  greeting  was  more  famiHar  and  unceremo^ 
nious. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  have  come  !"  she  said  simply,  "I  did  noi 
expect  to  see  you  so  soon." 

"I  thought  you  might  be  sick  from  your  wetting,"  te 
replied  with  a  smile,  as  he  looked  into  the  pure  sweet  faca 

OMuiie  gmilod  in  retarau 


Oh  no  I"  she  said,  *-I  am  very  weU,  I  think,  thongh  1 

certainly  have  caught  cold — but  I  am  subject  to  colds.'* 

With  which  she  coughed  slightly ;  and  led  the  way  into 
he  house. 

"  I  don't  see  your  father,"  said  George,  "  is  he  absent?" 

**He  is  my  grandfather,"  returned  Cannie,  in  her  low, 
riusical  voice  ;  "  and  he  is  not  far — shall  I  call  him?" 

"  Oh  no  I  unless  you're  akeady  very  tired  of  me — Can- 
aie. 

George  uttered  the  girl's  name  with  a  slight  tremor  in  hia 
voice  ;  and  the  tell-tale  blood  rushed  to  his  cheek  as  he 
gazed  at  her.  Cannie  exhibited  no  similar  emotion — indeed 
seemed,  rather,  very  much  pleased  at  this  absence  of  cere- 
mony. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  familiarity,"  said  George, 
blushing.  "I  scarcely  knew  I  was  speaking  so — calling  you 
plain  '  Cannie.' " 

"  Beg  my  pardon  ?"  said  tho  girl,  in  a  tone  of  surprise, 
"  why  should  you  ?  I  wish  you  always  to  call  me  Cannie,  if 
you  please.  We  are  friend^} — 2216  yon  know  that  you  saved 
my  life." 

The  words  were  uttered  very  simply  and  sweetly, — so 
sweetly  indeed  that  George  heard  the  tones  of  her  voice 
many  hours  afterwards.  His  confusion  disappeared  entirely 
ere  long  :  and  proposing  to  Cannie  a  stroll  on  the  mountain 
side — a  proposition  to  which  she  at  once  assented — the  boy 
and  the  girl  were  very  soon  rambling  beneath  the  magnifi- 
cent foliage  of  the  autumn  forest. 

Bright  hours  full  of  magical  tints  and  odors  1 — ^filled  with 
BO  mucn  romance  and  delight !  They  became  a  portion  of 
his  memory  and  heart  :  and  long  afterwards,  far  away  in 
other  scenes  of  hardship  and  pain,  he  remembered  them,  and 
sighed  for  his  bright  boyhood.  They  wandered  away  along 
the  mountain  side  thus,  with  no  aim  in  their  wanderings,  no 
eonsciouRuess  of  the  sentiment  that  was  ripening  in  their 
oaarta^   George  only  knew  that  Caimie  was  there  at  hia 


KEB  ICASTEB  Of  GBEENWAI  OOUBT. 


108 


(dde  with  her  pure  sweet  face,  and  kind  good  eyes  ;  her  Upa 
fall  of  cheerful,  loving  smiles  ;  her  voice  like  soft  music  in  hia 
ears.  When  she  rested  on  his  arm  in  crossiag  some  monn- 
taiQ  rivulet,  or  gave  him  her  hand  to  mount  to  the  summit 
of  a  rock,  George  felt^  he  knew  not  why,  a  singular  beating 
of  the  heart,  and  his  cheeks  flushed  without  the  least  rea- 
■on. 

Bright  days  of  youth !— brighter  thoughts  of  the  neart 
They  are  flowers  that  bloom  but  once,  and  then  die.  What 
remains  is  the  wiry  stalk  and  bald  head.    It  may  contain  the 
seed,  but  the  odor  and  the  bloom,  where  are  they  ? 

So  George  and  Cannie  wandered  away  for  hours  :  and  the 
golden  autumn  day  sank  into  their  hearts,  and  filled  them 
with  its  magical  deUght.  When  they  came  back  home,  they 
were  silent,  and  happy.  It  seemed  but  a  moment  since  tiiey 
had  left  the  house. 

In  the  main  room  they  encountered  the  old  man. 

Grandpapa,"  said  Cannie,  "  here  is  George." 
The  old  man  returned  the  young  man's  greeting  with  easy 
courtesy.    They  then  commenced  conversing,  Cannie  joining 
easily  in  their  talk. 

In  the  midst  of  one  of  the  speaker's  sentences,  George  ob- 
served a  glittering  object  lying  on  the  floor.  It  was  a  car- 
olus,  as  the  gold  3oin  was  then  called,  and  George  picked  it, 
up.  To  his  astonishment  it  was  iitmost  hot :  and  his  look, 
as  he  held  it  out,  betrayed  his  wonder.  His  host  took  it  with 
%  sardonic  smile,  which  George  afterwards  remembered. 

It  is  a  coin  I  have  just  been  experimenting  on,"  said  the 
old  man  ;  "  I  dropped  it  and  forgot  to  pick  it  up.  I  am  a 
savant,  or  chymist,  Master  George,  you  must  understand.  I 
experiment  on  gold  and  silver.  You  no  doubt  saw  the 
smoke  from  my  furnace  up  there — and  so  let  us  turn  to  some- 
thing more  interesting." 

With  these  words  the  speaker  calmly  put  the  coin  in  hii 
pocket,  and  changed  the  topic  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a 
thorough  man  of  the  world.    George  had  never  heard  tntck 


fAISFAX;  QBf 


briUiant  and  profound  talk  from  any  Dne  ;  and  for  more  thaa 
an  hour  he  sat  listening  with  delight  to  the  absorbing  mono** 
logae  of  the  stranger. 

It  was  not  until  evening  that  the  youth  took  his  depart- 
ure ;  and  then  it  was  with  a  promise  that  he  would  come 
again. 

"  Remember  I  am  lonely,"  said  Cannie,  smiling  and  giving 
him  her  hand,  "  as  grandpapa  is  often  busy.  Come  baolr 
eoonl" 

Qeorge  required  no  urging,  and  all  the  way  bdok  to 
Qreenway^  heard  her  voioe. 


XXL 

CAFTAIN  WAGKEB  aOlSS  TO  CALL  ON  HIS  FSDEBTDCL 

HEN  Captain  Wagner  undertook  to  perform  way- 
thing,  he  was  accustomed  to  set  about  it  with  a 
rapidity  and  energy  ahnost  fatal,  in  the  very  be- 
ginning, to  an  opponent  of  sluggish  disposition. 
The  Captain  had  come  to  the  Valley  of  Virginia  at  the 
bidding  of  Lord  Fairfax,  to  assist  that  nobleman  with  his 
counsel  in  the  troublous  days  which  were  plainly  lowering 
on  the  border:  and  in  so  doing,  the  soldier  had  only  acted 
m  conformity  with  his  views  of  duty,  and  his  war-instincts. 
As  the  Indian  attack  was  evidently  delayed  for  the  time, 
however,  as  no  breeze  brought  to  the  huge  ears  of  the 
frontiersman  the  rumor  of  battle,  as  he  was  doomed  to  in- 
ftcltivity  for  the  moment,  and  was  not  needed  by  his  lord- 
ship—under this  state  of  things  it  seemed  to  the  Captain 
that  his  most  rational  employment  would  be  a  diligent  ap- 
pHcation  of  his  energies  to  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Butterton,  with 
the  prospective  view  of  inducing  that  lady  to  become  Mrs. 
Wagner,  into  which  changed  state  she  would  doubtless 
carry  with  her,  her  thousand  "  desirabilities/* 

These  reflections  had  occurred  to  the  soldier  at  his  first 
interview,  and  we  have  been  present  at  his  formal  declara- 
tion of  war  against  Thomas,  Lord  Fairfax,  Baron  of  Cam- 
eron, and  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Frederick  and  the  shires 
adjacent. 

The  Captain,  after  leaving  Mrs.  Butterton  as  we  have  seen 
him  do,  immediately  set  about  his  task. 

He  instituted  inquiries  upon  all  sides;  procured  a  full  list 
oi  the  justices,  with  the  greater  part  of  whom  he  was  per- 


106 


FAIBFAX;  OR, 


feotly  well  acquainted;  and  with  this  basis  of  operations^ 

and  the  comfortable  assurance  that  there  was  quite  a  formic 
dable  party  against  Stephensburi^  and  Lord  Fairfax,  and 
eonsequently  in  favor  of  Winchester  and  Mrs.  Butterton, 
cheerfully  took  to  the  nigh  road,  and  commenced  hia 
rounds. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  >£  this  nistory  to  follow  the  vaHaat 
Captain  and  great  negotiator  in  his  campaign,  or  to  repeat 
in  detail  the  various  and  ev^r-ready  arguments  which  he 
used  to  impress  his  friends  with  the  importance  of  selecting 
the  village  of  Winchester  for  the  county-seat.  Perhaps  we 
lose  a  most  favorable  opportunity  of  showing  the  tremen- 
dous energy  and  conspicuous  ingenuity  of  Captain  Longknife. 
by  passing  thus  over  a  series  of  scenes  in  which  he  was  im- 
pressive and  indefatigable — ^but,  unfortunately,  we  are  not 
now  writing  the  history  of  Winchester. 

It  is  enough,  then,  to  say  that  the  Captain  returned  to  the 
Ordinary,  three  or  four  days  afterwards,  with  a  countenance 
in  which  might  easily  have  been  discerned  an  expression  ol 
much  pride  and  triumph. 

"Faith,  madam!'*  he  said,  bending  down  and  pressing 
gallantly  to  his  lips  the  plump  hand  of  Mistress  Butterton, 
who  smiled,  and  murmured,  "La,  Captain!"  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  fan,  "  faith,  madam!  I  begin  to  think  that 
I  ought  to  have  undertaken  more  in  your  behalf — ^to  have 
the  county-seat  moved  to  Belhaven,  or,  as  these  new-fanglea 
folks  begin  to  call  it,  Alexandria,  or  even  to  Williamsburg, 
or  the  village  of  Richmond,  or  any  other  town  in  which  you 
may  have  property  I  Be  easy  on  the  subject,  my  dear  mad- 
am, for  this  veiy  morning  I  am  going  to  finish  everything. 
I'm  going  to  see  Argal,  and  that  rascal  Hastyluck,  wid  I 
want  company.  Where's  your  gallant  acquaintance,  Fal 
conbridge,  our  mutual  friend  ?" 

The  lady  smiled,  and  with  an  innocent  air,  said : 

"  I  think  he  has  gone  before  you.  Captain." 

^  Gone  before  r 


lOT 


•*ToMr.  Argal's." 
And  the  lady  laughed. 

"Rather  to  Mks  Argal*s,"  said  the  CaptaiL.  frowning,  and 
looking  thonghtfuL 
"Yes." 

"He'sinbver 
"Is  he 

"  Dead  in  love  1    What  a  foolish  fellow 
"Hem!"  said  Mrs.  Butterton,  gently,  and  with  a  danger 
ous  look,  "  do  you  think  that  is  very  foolish,  Captain 

"  It  would  not  be  in  your  case,  beautiful  and   

"  Oh,  Captain  I" 

"May  the  I — well,  that's  wrong:  but  I  will  maintain,  with 
fire  and  sword,  the  good  sense  of  the  individual  who  falls  in 
love  with  you! — that  is,"  added  the  Captain,  guardedly,  "  I 
will  cut  the  throats  of  all  persons,  or  individuals,  who  pre- 
sume to  do  anything  of  the  sort." 

With  which  somewhat  inconsistent  declaration,  Captain 
Wagner  again  kissed  the  hand  he  held  in  his  huge  paw, 
pushed  up  his  black  moustache  with  his  j&nger,  as  was  hab- 
itual with  him,  and  issuing  forth,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
took  his  way  toward  Mr.  Argal's. 


lOS  FAIBl^AX;  OB, 


XXIL 

THE  OAPTAER  BEVELS  IN  THE  OBEATIOI^iS  OF  HIS  FJkXCS.  \ 

ALCONBRIDGE  !~Madam  Bertlia!"  muttered 
the  soldier,  gloomily,  as  he  went  onward,  "  infat-  | 
uated!    Really,  nothing  is  more  astonishing  than  j 
this  passion,  or  indeed  madness,  as  one  may  ] 
call  it,  whi(3h  invades  a  man's  heart  when  his  locks  are  still  '] 
black,  his  moustache  untouched  by  gray.    But  this  is  not  i 
an  infallible  test,  since  I,  myself,  am  not  at  all  gray.  But 
then,  I,  myself,''  continued  the  Captain,  philosophically 
carrying  on  a  logical  fencing  with  himself,  as  with  another  | 
person,  "  I,  myself,  possibly  am  in  love.    In  love  I  what  ro-  i 
mance  and  folly,  and  all  that !    Still  the  fair  lady  yonder  is 
not  unworthy  of  the  affection  of  a  soldier,  and  a  man  of  I 
intelligence — a  good,  sensible,  fair,  wealthy,  and  very  engag-  ^ 
ing  widow  !    If  that  don't  satisfy  an  individual  in  search  oi 
matrimony,  nothing  can.    I'll  have  her! — may  the  devil  eat  i 
me  whole  but  I'll  have  her!    On  !  Injun-hater,  on  !"  \ 
And  the  Captain  dug  his  spurs  into  the  huge  sides  of  the  ; 
snorting  animal,  and  went  onward  like  a  moving  mountain.  J 
He  soon  reached  Mr.  Argal's — dismounted — and  entered.  ^ 
It  was  a  plain  and  rudely-constructed  house,  with  few  com- 
forts about  it,  and  scarcely  discernible  at  the  distance  oi  ] 
fifty  yards,  so  dense  was  the  clump  of  trees  in  which  it  1 
Btood.  ' 

The  Captain  was  met  on  the  threshold  by  Mr.  Argal,  who  : 

politely  welcomed  him,  aad  led  him  into  the  house,  where  j 

dinner  was  being  placed  upon  the  table.    The  Captain  j 

Buuffed  up  the  rich  olor  of  the  repast^  plain  as  it  was,  and  ^ 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWaT  OQVN.               Ifll  \ 

1 

9,  mild  expression  diffused  itseM  over  his  martial  cotmte-  j 

nance.  Dinner  must  have  been  invented  by  the  earliest  in-  | 
habitants  of  the  globe,  Captain  Wagner  often  said,  and  ha 

hailed  it  as  one  of  the  greatest  discoveries  which  had  ever  j 

adorned  science.    To  say  the  truth,  the  soldier  had  an  j 

equally  exalted  opinion  of  the  individual,  or  individuals,  j 
who  discovered  breakfast,  supper,  intermediate  mealSj  and 

all  descriptions  of  eating.  j 

After  satisfying  himself  that  his  material  wants  would  be  ! 

amply  supplied,  Captain  Wagner  looked  around  him  to  see  i 

where  Falconbridge  could  be — as  to  Miss  Argal,  he  never  ; 

felt  a  very  great  anxiety  to  see  her:  for  which  the  honest  \ 

Captain  probably  had  a  good  reason.    They  were  neither  i 

of  them  visible,  but  soon  made  their  appearance,  the  arm  of  i 
the  young  girl  resting  upon  that  of  her  companion,  and  hei 

bright  eyes  turned  to  him.    Falconbridge  grasped  the  hand  \ 

of  the  Captain  with  hearty  pleasure,  and  declared  himself  \ 

delighted  to  see  him:  to  which  the  Captain  replied  in  the  ' 

same  tone.    Then,  after  some  conversation,  the  party  sat  | 

down  to  dinner.    The  Captain  ate  with  great  gusto,  and  \ 

emptied  more  than  one  fair  cup  of  wine,  or — more  accurate-  \ 

ly  speaking,  Jamaica  rum.  In  those  days  wines  were  not  ! 
much  affected,  espec^^Uy  upon  the  border  ;  the  mellow  rum 

of  Jamaica  was  the  favorite  beverage;  and,  as  we  have  said,  j 

this  was  Captain  Wagner's  chosen  drink.  < 

At  the  termination  of  the  repast,  and  when  all  rose  and 

walked  out  in  the  fine  October  evening,  the  Captain  found  ■ 

himself  in  excellent  condition  for  the  attack  upon  Mr.  ; 

Argal.  \ 

He  was  speedily  left  alone  with  that  individual;  for  Fal-  I 

conbridge  and  the  young  lady  accidentally  wandered  off  to-  j 

ward  the  prairie,  a  glimpse  of  which  appeared  through  a  j 

glade  in  the  woods,  toward  the  south;  and  the  Captain's  ^ 

eloquence  had  thus  full  scope  and  room  to  move  in,  without  ■ 

fear  of  interruption,  \ 

The  difficulty  experienced  by  the  very  befit  8tenographec8 


110 


FAIRFAX  ]  OR, 


In  reporting  the  ntterances  of  great  orators,  is  proverbial 

and  undisputed.  We  find  ourselves  in  this  predicament  in 
relation  to  the  harangue  of  Captain  Wagner  on  this  occa- 
sion. Full  of  his  subject,  in  a  talkative  and  eloquent  mood, 
and  with  an  important  end  to  attain,  the  Captain's  oration 
was  reaUy  remarkable.  It  was  also  sprinkled  with  the 
newest  and  most  impressive  flowers  of  speech,  of  that 
description  which  the  soldier  was  accustomed  to  use  in 
decorating  his  utterances — and  the  originality  and  beauty 
of  these  newly-coined  forms  of  expression  riveted  the  atten- 
tion of  his  smiling  and  amused  auditor.  As  to  his  eulogium 
upon  the  town  of  Winchester,  it  was  almost  sublime  in  ita 
eloquence  and  enthusiasm. 

"A  magnificent  situation!"  cried  the  Captain,  pushing 
up  his  moustache;  "the  pearl  of  towns,  the  paragon  of 
villages!  Like  Eome  and  other  cities  of  Asia,  which  grew 
up  from  small  beginnings.  Winchester,  my  dear  friend,  is 
destined  to  rule  the  world !  But  perhaps  that  is  too  strong 
— I  wish  to  confine  mj'self  strictly  within  the  most  reason- 
able bounds — wiU  be  moderate,  and  say  that  Winchester 
is  destined  to  be  the  capital  of  Virginia !  I  expect  to  see 
his  Excellency,  Governor  Gooch,  take  up  his  residence  there, 
and  leave  forever  that  abominable  county  town,  called 
Williamsburg — expect  everything;  and  nothing  is  too 
good  for  that  noble  village !  Who  knows  but  his  Majesty, 
George  11.,  attracted  by  the  wide-spread  fame  of  the  place, 
may  some  day  set  out  from  London  on  a  visit  to  Winches- 
ter, and  delight  the  hearts  of  his  faithful  subjects  of  Vir- 
ginia with  a  sight  of  his  royal  and  divine  physiognomy !  I 
think  I  see  myself  his  herald  and  king  at  arms,  riding  be- 
fore the  royal  chariot,  through  Loudoun  Street,  on  Injun- 
hater,  and  crying  to  the  crowd:  "Make  way,  my  friends! 
his  Majesty  is  coming.  This,  sir,  is  the  future  of  Winches- 
ter— and  is  anything  so  splendid  to  be  descried  in  th« 
future  of  Stephensbui-g — a  mere  assemblage  of  huts,  and 
unworthy  of  tl^e  least  attention  f  Xou  are  laughing  at  m6| 


THE  HA8TXE  OJf  QBBENWAf  OOUKL  ill 


my  dear  friend,  and  you  think  I  am  not  impaidal.  WeH 
maybe  I'm  not — and  this  is  all  my  jesting.  But  recollect, 
my  dear  Mend,  what  I  say — ^recollect  what  Wagrer  said 
when  it  is  fulfilled: — m  one  year  from  this  time,  thereTI  b« 
a  splendid  wagon  road  from  Winchester  to  the  ferry,  on  the 
Potomac,  and  the  town  will  have  its  jail,  and  court-house  of 
the  finest  logs !" 

Having  uttered  these  words  with  deep  solemnity.  Cap- 
tain Wagner  paused  a  moment,  and  revolved  the  remaining 
points  of  his  subject  not  yet  touched  upon. 

We  need  not  follow  the  conversation  further  ;  it  is  enough 
to  say  that  when  Falconbridge  and  Miss  Argal  made  theii 
appearance  again,  Captain  Wagner  had  received  from  hia 
companion  a  promise  to  vote  for  Winchester — a  matter,  he 
said,  of  no  importance  to  him,  and  rather  in  accordance  with 
his  previous  convictions  of  what  would  be  most  advisable. 

"  And  now,  Captain,"  said  IMr.  Argal,  "  is  there  any  more 
intelligence  of  Indians  ?" 

"You  heard  the  rumors:  but  that's  little.  I  thimk,  my 
dear  friend,  that  we  shall  hear  from  the  South  Branch  be- 
fore long.  Body  o'  me!  you  can't  trust  those  rascals, 
because  you  don't  see  or  hear  them : — ^you  can't,  on  that  ac- 
count, be  sure  that  they're  ntt  at  your  very  doors:  and  this 
young  lady  might  have  been  carried  away  yonder  in  a  mo- 
ment, in  spite  of  the  presence  of  her  gallant." 

"  Bah  1  Captain !"  said  Falconbridge,  as  he  drew  near, 
smiling,  "  you  can't  frighten  me." 

"  I  wouldn't  attempt  it,  comrade.  Such  men  as  wq  ar« 
don't  get  frightened    But  Injuns  are  Injuns !" 

Well,  let  them  come,"  said  Falconbridge,  laughing;  "  we 
are  equal  to  them  in  strength." 

"And  the  women  ?'* 

"Ahr 
And  the  children?" 

**Ton  are  right — ^I  forgot  them,  boy  that  I  am.'* 

^la  case  the  Injuns  show  their  noses^  aompanion,*  re* 


112 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


plied  the  Captain,  "I  undertake  to  saiiy  that  you  will  not 
possibly  be  able  to  forget  the  said  women  and  children.** 
"  How,  Captain  ?" 

"  They  have  a  way  of  squalling—an  awful  noise  it  is.  Of 

may  the  fiend  seize  me!" 

"  I  couldn't  bear  that,"  said  Falconbridge;  "  I  never  cotdd 
end  are  the  thought  that  a  woman  or  a  child  was  suffering, 
i  would  close  my  ears  to  it,  if  I  could  not  strike  I" 

"  Well,  you  may,  perhaps,  have  to  close  your  ears,  com^ 
panion,  before  the  arrival  of  the  blood-thirsty  rascals." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Capfcain  ?" 
I  mean  that  Mr.  Gideon  Hastyluck  speaks  of  having  old 
Powell,  up  yonder,  and  his  daughter,  whose  name  is  Cannie 
' — a  sweet  child — ^burned  as  witches,  at  the  next  assizes/' 

"Burned?" 

"  Yes." 

"Aman?"  

"  And  his  daughter." 
"You  jest.  Captain !" 
"  I'm  in  dead  earnest  1'* 
"For  witchcraft?" 
"  Precisely." 

"  Why,  it  is  barbarous ! — worse  than  the  bloodiest  mur- 
der: a  man  and  his  daughter  burned  for  witchcraft  I" 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  in  witchcraft,  comrade,  ehf 

"  I  beheve  nothing,  and  disbelieve  nothing." 

"\ery  well,"  said  the  Captain,  "that  is  just  my  case — 
only  if  that  fellow,  Hastylu3k,  makes  me  angiy,  I  will  cut 
off  both  his  ears.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof. 
Let  us  dismiss  the  subject,  and  it's  in  very  good  time,  as  I 
Bee  the  sun  setting  yonder,  and  a  storm  brewing.  Com- 
rade," he  said,  turning  to  Falconbridge,  "  will  you  go  ?" 

There  was  so  much  sternness  and  gloom  in  Captain  Wag- 
ner's voice,  as  he  uttered  these  latter  words,  that  Falcon- 
bridge, for  a  moment,  remained  silent,  gaziu^^  with  astonish 
tsmui  at  him.    Then  hiB  eyes  turned  suddenly  towaj  d  tlu 


TEB  MASTBB  OV  GR&ENWAY  OOmVf  U9 

lady — ^her  hand  had  pressed  his  arm,  that  was  all:  she  was 
looldiig  with  a  smile  at  the  evening  sky. 

"No,  my  dear  Captain,"  he  said;  "I  think  111  prolong 
my  visit  a  little.  When  I  am  in  agreeable  company,  I  am 
loth  to  leave  it." 

"Good,  goodl"  said  Captain  Wagner,  indifferently,  but 
gazing  with  a  wistful  look  at  the  open,  careless  face  of  Fal* 
conbridge,  "I  can  understand  that.  But  I  am  not  a  young- 
Bter,  and  I  really  must  go." 

'  He  turned  his  eyes  as  he  spoke  toward  Miss  Argal;  and 
hie  rapid  glance  took  in  every  detail  of  her  figure — her  head 
befit  down — her  glossy  curls  half  covering  her  cheeks — her 
rosy  lipc  haif  parted  and  moist— her  brilliant  eyes  veiled  by 
the  long  and  dusky  lashes,  but  raised  from  time  to  time  to- 
ward her  companion:  all  this  Captain  Wagner  saw,  and  the 
frown  grew  deeper. 

He  said  nothing,  however,  and  refusing  to  accept  Mr. 
Argal's  invitation  to  remain  all  night,  went  and  mounted  his 
horse,  and  set  forward. 

Falconbridge  remained  half  an  hour  longer;  and  then 
seeing  the  storm  rapidly  rising,  also  took  his  departui^3 — 
but  not  so  sullenly  as  Captain  Wagner. 

He  went  on,  at  fuU  gallop,  gaily  through  the  darkness 
which  lightning  from  time  to  time  illuminated  :  and  his  coun* 
tenance  clearly  indicated  of  whom  he  was  thinking. 

The  dazzling  beauty  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  just  left, 
had  intoxicated  the  young  man;  and  he  went  on  with  the 
carelessness  of  a  lover,  or  a  madman,  without  heeding  the 
lightning  or  the  storm. 

A  brighter  flash  than  he  had  yet  witnessed,  lit  up  the 
road,  and  he  saw  a  tall,  dark  horseman  before  him,  who 
oould  be  no  other  than  Captain  Wagner — and  so,  upon  a 
nearer  approach,  it  proved.  The  Captain  had  ridden  at  a 
measured  pace;  Falconbridge  had  galloped  furiously;  and 
thiu  they  had  encountered  each  other. 


VAIEFAX:  OS. 


xxnL 

OAPTAIU  WAQNBK  DISC30URSBS  ON  THE  NaTTJBB  OF  FAKTBJQS. 

APTAIN  WAGNER  quietly  returned  Falcon- 
bridge's  salute;  and  touching  his  horse  with  the 
spur,  galloped  on  by  his  side  without  speaking. 
"Well,  my  dear  Captain,"  said  his  companion, 
*  you  did  not  expect  to  see  me?" 
"  No,  I  did  not/'  said  the  soldier. 
"Why?" 

"  Because  you  were  with  a  woman." 
"Pshaw!"  cried  Falconbridge:  "you  think  me  a  mere 
lady's  man." 

"No — ^but  how  did  you  succeed  in  getting  away?"  asked 
the  Captain. 

"  Succeed  in  getting  away?" 

"Yes,  pardy!  It  seems  there  is  much  to  attract  yon 
yonder." 

"  Is  anything  more  natural  than  that  I  should  wish  to  get 
to  the  Ordinary  before  the  storm?  See!  that  flash  1  and 
the  thunder !  I  doubt  whether,  even  at  the  rapid  pace  we 
are  now  going,  we  shall  arrive  without  a  drenching." 

Captain  Wagner  made  no  reply,  and  the  two  horses 
continued  to  devour  the  space  with  their  long  gallop,  which 
was  so  regular  that  but  one  footfall  could  be  heard.  At  last 
the  Captain  turned,  and  said,  abruptly  : 

"  Comrade,  you  ar®  from  the  Lowlands,  down  yonder,  are 
you  not?" 

"  Yes,  fiom  Tide- water.    Why  do  you  ask?" 
"Oh,  mere  curiosity;  fine  animals  you  have  down  there 
*— your  hx>rse  for  instance." 


THK  MASTBSB  Ot  GBEB»WAY  CJOtJBIE.  116 


"  Tes,  he's  of  the  purest  blood — out  of  Mariana  o j  Both 
weil — a  racer." 

"  I  believe  you;  lie  is  eating  the  road  like  wildfire — worse 
than  a  rabbit  at  a  head  of  cabbage.  But  there  is  one  very 
beautiful  animal  which  I  have  never  yet  seen  in  the  Low 
Country,  and  though  the  breed  of  horses  there  is  superior,  I 
beheve,  to  the  mountain  nags,  I  think  we  are  ahead  of  yon 
in"  

"In  what,  Captain?" 

"  Panthers,"  said  the  Captain,  concisely. 
Panthers  ?    I  have  never  seen  ona" 

"  Are  you  sure  ?" 

«  Certainly." 
Quite  sure?" 

"  Absolutely — ^there  are  none  on  Tide-water." 
That  does  not  matter,  comrade — not  in  the  least,** 

«  How  so  ?" 

"  You  may  have  seen  them  since  your  arrival  in  this  fine 
cx>untry  of  the  Valley,  or  the  devil  oat  me  !" 
"  I  have  not,  however." 
"Do  you  know  a  panther  when  you  see  it?*' 
"No." 

"How,  then,  can  you  say  you  have  encountered  nonef 
Answer  that,  pardy !  companion  !" 

Falconbridge  endeavored  to  make  out  the  expression  of 
the  Captain's  face  through  the  darkness.  What  could  this 
persistence  of  the  soldier  in  one  subject,  a  subject  of  no 
)atere«it  to  him,  signif}^  ? 

"  Well,  have  it  as  you  will.  Captain,"  he  said,  smiling, 
^  perhaps  I  may  have  seen  these  animals — describe  one  to 
ma' 

'  Ah !"  rephed  Wagner,  "  at  last  you  are  becoming  curi- 
ous 1  Well,  I  wiU  do  as  you  wish.  listen,  then,  to  the 
description  of  a  panther." 

"lUsten." 

The  soldier  was  silent,  and  seemed  to  be  straggling  wiib 


m 


FAIBFAX  08y 


himseU— debfliting  in  the  depths  j)f  his  acute  anl  vigorodfi 
brain  whether  it  were  advisable  or  not  to  follow  a  certain 
course.  But  Falconbridge  did  not  perceive  the  singular 
expression  of  the  Captain's  face,  or  indeed,  hear  his  dubious 
mutterings;  the  darkness  shrouded  completely  his  compan- 
ion's person — the  hoof-strokes  of  the  horse  drowned  hia 
growl.  The  expression  of  the  soldier's  countenance  would 
have  afforded  his  companion  much  food  for  thought.  That 
expression  was  both  stern  and  pitying,  gloomy  and  satiricaL 
The  Captain  remained  thus  silent  for  some  time, 
"  But  your  description  of  a  panther,  Captain,"  repeated 
Falconbridge. 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,"  said  the  soldier,  "  eyes  both 
soft  and  fiery — that  is  to  say,  as  tender-looking  as  the  leal 
of  a  flower  in  bloom,  and  at  the  same  time  as  brilliant  as  a 
flame  of  fire." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes!  extraordinary  eyes,  wondrous  eyes;  both  human 
and  inhuman,  attractive  and  repulsive,  but  far  more  fascin- 
ating than  menacing,  or  the  devil  take  me !  It  is  only  at 
certain  times  that  these  eyes  menace  you,  and  then  they 
blaze  1" 

"  Ah !"  said  Falconbridge,  "  then  you  have  seen  both  ex- 
pressions ?" 

"Yes,  often!  a  wondrous  pair  of  optics,  that  draw  jou 
toward  them,  however  firm  you  may  be,  as  the  sun  drawSt 
[  am  told,  the  fixed  stars,  pardy !" 

Falconbridge  laughed  at  this  illustration. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  continue." 

"  Next  the  voice  is  not  kss  wonderful/* 

"  The  voice  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"Of  a  panther?  Has  a  panther  a  voice,  Captain — a 
foioe?" 

•*  Nothing  less  1    Have  you  never  read  of  the  strange  cry 


II 


THK  HASTSB  OF  GBBEWAY  OOVBfS.  Ill 

%ng  of  a  child,  which  hunters  have  heard  iii  the  deep  forests  i 

in  their  expeditions  T'  ■ 

"Ah,  yes  I  I  now  recollect "   » 

"Well,  that  is  one  of  the  tones  of  the  panther's  voice.  'i 

You  understand,"  continued  the  soldier  with  a  cold  sneer —  i 

"  a  ferocious,  blood-thirsty  animal,  worse  than  a  tiger,  or  a  | 

rattlesnake,  cries  like  a  Uttle  fatling  baby  for  its  amuse-  j 

mentr  J 

Strange,  indeed  i 

"But  this  voice,  which  can  sigh,  and  wail,  and  murmui  > 

like  a  baby's,  can  also  send  terror  to  the  strongest  heart  1"  < 

"Yes."  ] 

"  To  proceed,  then,  with  my  description  of  this  fine  animaL"  I 

"Captain — ^your  voice  1  the  tones  of  it  I  how  singularly  j 

you  speak !  but  pardon  me."  I 

"  Oh,  my  voice,  it  is  true,  can't  compare  with  a  panther's  | 

but,  nevertheless,  I  have  the  advantage  in  one  particular.    I  ! 

have  never  yet  seen  the  panther  who  could  ease  his  feelings  j 

with  a  good  round  *  devil  take  me!*    But  let  me  finish.  I 

Next  to  the  eyes  and  the  voice  come  the  velvet  covering,  the  \ 

graceful  movement,  the  beautiful,  sharp  teeth,  and  the  j 

sharper  claws;  but  here  again  is  an  astonishing  thiug;  with  i 

these  teeth  the  fine  panther,  male  or  female,  actually  | 

smiles  "   | 

"  Smiles  ?    Captain,  you  mean  more  than  you  say !    There  \ 

is  a  covert  meaning  in  this  description  my  mind  struggles  i 

to  make  out  1''  j 

"  Covert  ?    How  is  that — ^it  is  as  accurate  a  description  as 

possible;  no  fiction,  no  imagination,  or  may  the  devil  fly  • 

away  with  me !"  : 

"  Proceed  I"  murmured  Falconbridge.  \ 

"1  was  saying  that  as  the  panther,  with  its  fine  voioe,  \ 

could  not  only  make  you  shudder,  but  also  fill  you  with  j 

pity  as  for  a  poor  little  crying  child,  so  with  its  fine  teeth  it  j 

cannot  only  tear  you  to  pieces,  but  just  as  easily  persuade  I 

you  that  its  nature  is  all  tenderness  and  love — ^by  nmiling  j 


U8 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


ander stand — a  soft,  gentle^  fascinating  smiSet   I  have  seen 

it,  or  tlio  devil  take  me  I" 

"Captain,  Captain!"  murmured  Falconbridge,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  forehead." 

"Then  the  claws,"  continued  the  soldier,  paying  no  at- 
tention to  this  interruption,  "  they  are  gifted  with  the  sin- 
gular power  of  drawing  themselves  in,  and  burying  themr 
selves  beneath  the  velvety  hair,  you  understand"  

"Yes  1" 

"Then  when  they  are  so  drawn  back,  you  touch  nothing 
but  a  soft,  velvet  cushion,  which  natural  historians  have 
most  ungallantly  called  a  paw — say  ungallantly,  because  all 
this  time  I  have  been  speaking  of  the  female  panther,  or 
perhaps  I  may  say  pantheress.  You  have  a  beautiful,  soft 
cushion  before  you,  a  pretty  thiQg  to  toy  and  play  with — 
nothing  more — ^no  claws  any  where  visible;  you  compre- 
hend?" 

"Perfectly!" 

"  But  if  you  happen  to  excite  the  slumbering  ferocity  ol 
the  fine  lady  panther,  why  this  beautiful,  soft  palm  will  turn 
into  a  bundle  of  iron  springs,  the  sharp  claws  will  dart  forth 
like  magic;  and  the  bright  teeth  which  you  admired  so 
much  will  come  to  the  assistance  of  the  claws;  and  there! 
yoi  find  the  consequences  of  intimacy  with  a  pantheress  1 
When  your  friend,  uneasy  at  your  absence,  comes  to 
search  for  you,  he  finds  a  mangled  body,  half-devoured,  and 
emptied  of  every  drop  of  blood;  panthers  like  blood!" 

"Captain — Captain  Wagner!'  murmured  Falconbridgs, 
"  speak  to  me  as  a  friend — speak  to  me  in  plain  words — ^you 
ovean  "  

"  That  I  do  not  like  panthers,  male  or  female,"  said  Cap- 
tam  Wagner,  sullenly  ;  "  they  are  too  tender  and  cruel,  too 
beautiful  and  fatal  with  their  undulating  bodies,  their  grace- 
ful limbs,  their  soft,  velvety  covering,  their  smiles,  their  sighs, 
their  fascioatiag  glances !" 

'^Cttptainl  CaptaiuP 


TBK  MASTKB  OF  GBEJEKWAT  OOlJBr.  119 


^Thej  smile  too  sweetly  and  bite  too  ferociously  I  Tliey 
oaress  too  softly  the  victim  before  tearing  him  to  pieces,  and 
lapping  with  a  smile  his  heart's  blood!  Would  you  have  me 
like  the  animal  when  I  know  it  so  well  I" 

Falconbridge  was  silent  for  a  moment,  evidently  overcome 
by  this  terrible  allegory.  At  last  he  said,  with  much  agita* 
tion  : 

"Captain  I  friend !  why  have  you  spoken  with  such  cruel 
mmity  of  Miss  Axgal  ?" 

"I  have  spoken  of  no  one,"  said  the  Captain  gloomily  ; 
*  I  have  not  mentioned  Miss  Argal's  name  !  I  have  spoken 
of  an  animal  which  I  should  fear  mortally,  were  not  my 
muscles  of  force  sufficient  to  cateh  that  animal  in  my  ai*ms, 
were  she  to  spring  upon  me,  and  there  crush  her 

Falconbridge,  plunged  in  distarbed  thought,  made  no  re- 
ply. They  galloped  on  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  silence,  and 
then  the  moon  came  out  between  the  lurid  clouds.  The 
storm  had  passed  away  toward  the  south. 

Captain  Wagner,  chancing  to  look  at  his  companion,  saw 
that  he  was  very  pale,  and  that  his  forehead  was  covered 
with  a  cold  sweat.  The  words  of  the  soldier  seemed  to  have 
paralyzed  him,  for  he  remained  perfectly  sUent — with  eyed 
full  of  wonder,  fixed  far  away  upon  the  distance. 

Not  a  word  more  was  uttered  by  either  of  the  companions 
until  they  reached  the  Ordinary,  and  here  they  separated, 
and  retired  to  their  beds. 

With  Falconbridge  the  night  was  a  vigil  of  wonder  and  in- 
ceredulitj. 


120 


VAIKFAX;  OB, 


XXIV. 

fiETLBOnONS  OF  CAPTAIN  L0N3KNIFB. 

OME  days  after  the  scenes  which  we  have  tried 
to  make  pass  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader,  Cap* 
tain  Wagner,  who  had  been  unintermptedly  en- 
gaged in  conferences  with  the  Earl,  bethought  him 
of  paying  some  attention  to  his  private  affairs.  According- 
ly, one  morning  before  the  sun  had  risen  he  donned  his 
warlike  accoutrements,  mounted  "  Injunhater,"  and  set  out 
for  the  Ordinary. 

The  sun  soon  appeared  above  the  brow  of  the  mountain, 
and  scattered  the  river  mist  before  him.  The  landscape 
waked  up,  the  birds  began  to  sing,  and  not  to  be  behind 
them,  the  Captain  shouted  lustily  an  old  border  ballad,  with 
an  ardor  whwh  was  superior  to  its  musical  execution. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said  in  a  confidential  tone,  after  finishing 
the  chorus,  "  the  fact  is,  I  was  not  intended  to  delight  the 
world  by  the  sweet  tones  of  my  voice.  Astonishing,  but 
dooms  true !  It's  not  given  to  everybody  to  excel  in  all  things, 
and  this  is  one  of  my  failings.    On,  Injunhater  1" 

And  the  worthy  touched  his  great  black  animal  with  the 
ipur,  and  cantered  along  gaUy,  presenting,  as  he  moved 
through  the  burnishing  sunlight,  an  exceedingly  striking  and 
martial  appearance. 

A.  fine  morning,  by  the  snout  of  the  dragon  I**  continued 
the  Captain,  looking  round  with  satisfaction  on  the  expanse 
of  torest  and  prairie.  "I  should  like  to  feel  for  once 
like  Fairfax  yonder,  that  the  world  belonged  to  me — that  I 
was  master.   But  wherefore  ?   Am  I  not  better  oS  by  far 


THE  KAffTER  OF  GBEENWAT  OOUBff* 


121 


than  tliis  good  baron  of  Cameron  ?  First,  I  am  a  ooxamos 
individual — and  these  lords  must  have  such  a  weary  time 
Then  I  laugh,  and  the  baron  only  sighs  I  He  eats  little  or 
nothing,  and  at  this  moment  I  coald  devour  a  raw  buffalo, 
or  I'm  a  dandy  1  To  end  the  whole  matter  I'm  going  to  sea 
my  wife — I'm  going  to  breakfast  with  my  intended !  A  nobk 
woman,  a  real  fairy,  though  she's  so  fat.  But  who  cares  ?  I 
rather  like  fat  people !  They  laugh  where  lean  ones  groan ; 
ni  have  this  one !    If  I  don't  I'll  eat  my  head !" 

And  the  Captain  seemed  inspired  by  the  reflection  and 
pushed  on  more  rapidly.  Then  as  he  gazed  in  the  direo- 
tion  of  the  Ordinary  his  brow  clodded — ^he  was  thinking  of 
Falconbridga 

"A  noblG  fellow!"  he  muttered, — heart  of  oak — an 
honest  boyf  And  he's  going  to  his  doom  as  sure  as  my 
name's  Wagner.  Well,  I've  done  aU  I  can,  and  more  than  1 
have  liked — things  must  go  on  their  way.  He  has  had  full 
warning,  and  though  my  breast  aches  at  the  thought  that 
he's  going  to  bleed,  I  am  done  with  it.  Woman,  woman! 
why  can't  we  male  things  stay  away  from  them  ?  We  die 
for  them — ^which  is  better  than  living  for  'em  sometimes ! 
We  laugh  at  'em,  sneer  at  'em,  curl  our  moustaches  with  a 
high-handed  air,  and  then  we  go  kneel  down,  and  make 
fools  of  ourselves.  Why  did  they  enter  the  world  ever  ? 
What  is  it  that  draws  us  so  toward  'em  ?" 

The  Captain  knit  his  brows  as  he  saw  the  tavern  before 
him,  and  after  some  moments  of  silence,  muttered  grimly  : 

"  Woman  I  woman !  wherever  you  tiim  in  this  miserable 
mrld,  you're  sure  to  find  a  woman  I — a^d  an  individual  of 
the  masculine  se:^  not  far  off  !'* 


122 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


XXV. 

now  TBM  TOWM    OF   STEPHENSBUBG,    OTHERWISE    NXWT0W1I|  WAS 

SOLD  FOB  A  FLAGON  OF  PITNOH. 

JHE  Captain  proceeded  toward  the  Ordinary 
without  further  reflections,  or  at  least  utterance, 
and  was  soon  entering  the  door  of  the  main 
apartment. 

A  disagreeable  picture  awaited  him.  The  handsome  wid- 
ow was  leaning  familiarly  upon  Monsieur  Jambot's  shoulder, 
and  conversing  confidentially  with  that  gentleman.  Whether 
she  had  heard  the  sonorous  neigh  of  Injunhater,  and  arrang- 
ed for  his  rider's  benefit  this  pleasing  little  tableau— or 
whether  the  idea  of  making  her  admirer  jealous  had  never 
entered  the  mind  of  the  lady,  we  cannot  say.  But  she  cer- 
tainly exhibited  great  surprise  and  confusion.  Monsieur 
Jambot  only  scowled. 

On  this  trying  occasion  Captain  Wagner  acted  with  that  con- 
Bnmmate  knowledge  of  the  female  character  which  his  friends 
declared  made  him  so  dangerous.  He  squeezed  Monsieur 
J'imbot*s  hly  white  hand  with  the  warmest  and  most  frater- 
n  il  regard — ^greeted  IVIrs.  Butterton  politely  but  with  easy 
1  indifference — and  then  turning  his  back  in  a  careless  way, 
pioceeded  to  converse  with  Mynheer  Van  Poring,  taking  no 
fmlher  notice  either  of  the  Frenchman  or  the  lady« 

The  result  of  this  stratagem  was  soon  apparent.  Mrs. 
Butterton  pouted,  tossed  her  fair  head,  and  abandoned  the 
vicinity  of  Monsieur  Jambot,  whose  teeth  began  to  grind 
against  each  other. 

Captain  Wagner  did  not  move.  He  was  perfectly  ab- 
aofbadim  hu  conversation  with  the  fat  landlord 


THE  MAflTTEB  OF  GBKENWA^  COUBT. 


128 


The  lady  lightly  touched  his  shoulder: — ^he  turned  indif- 
ferently. 

"  Why  do  you  treat  me  so  unfriendly,  Captain  said  the 
lady;  "  all  because  I  was  looking  at  that  music 

**  Unfriendly,  madam  ejaculated  the  Captain,  I  am  not 
unfriendly — ^but  I  know  too  well  what  is  expected  of  a  sol- 
dier in  the  presence  of  the  fair  sex.  As  you  were  convers- 
ing with  Monsieur  Jambot,  I  was  too  polite  to  intemipt 
you." 

And  the  Captain  raised  his  head  with  martial  dignity 
and  hauteur,  with  which  was  mingled  a  proud  misery. 

IVIrs.  Butterton  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and 
sobbed.  The  Captain  set  his  teeth  together,  and  summoned 
all  his  resolution. 

Another  sob  issued  from  the  handkerchief.  Monsieur 
Jambot  rose  to  his  feet  with  ferocnous  rapidit}^  In  a  mo- 
ment his  Uttle  dress-sword  was  drawn,  and  he  had  con- 
fronted the  Captain,  whom  he  charged,  in  a  voice  hoarse 
with  rage,  with  making  Madame  '*  grieve." 

Captain  Wagner  drew  his  sabre,  courteously  saluted,  and 
took  his  position  with  the  coolness  of  an  old  swordsman.  It 
was  then  that  Mrs.  Butterton  threw  herself  between  them 
with  sobs  and  tears,  beseeching  them  to  be  fi'iends — for  her 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  goodness  gracious — and  on  other 
grounds. 

"For  the  sake  of  a  lady,"  returned  Captain  AVagner, 
coldly,  "I  am  prepared  to  do  anything.  But  blood  will 
come  of  this,  or  the  devil  take  it !    Blood,  sir  !*' 

And  the  Captam  struck  ferociously,  the  hilt  of  his  sword, 
which  weapon  he  slowly  returned  to  its  scabbard.  Mon- 
sieur Jambot  declared  his  entire  wilKngnec^s  to  light  aU  tht 
Capitauies  in  the  v/orLL  singl}-,  or  together — and  tlien  with 
hia  hands  superbly  placed  upon  his  hips,  and  his  hat  cocked 
fierc^^ij,  sauntered  cariilessly  from  fehe  apartment. 

Then  commenced  a  terrible  scene  between  the  Captain 
aud  Mrs.  Butterton.   We  forbear  to  relate  the  partioal^k» 


FAIRFAX  ;  OR, 


The  lady  was  the  pleader — the  soldier  was  tho  <lignijBe<! 
listener.  For  a  long  time  he  remained  obdurate — ^in  tha 
end  he  melted.  When  Mrs.  Butterton  brought  him  Jamai- 
ca with  her  own  fair  hands,  and  provided  all  else  -which  he 
wished,  with  smiles  ^^reaking  through  tears,  the  Oaptain 
fairly  succumbed.  He  took  the  chubby  hand  and  kissed  it 
gallantly — declared  he  was  more  her  devoted  slave  than 
ever — and  then  busied  himself  in  mingling  his  morning 
dram ,  for  which  he  possessed  a  recipe  known  only  to  him* 
sell 

"  Really,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the  worthy,  now  com- 
pletely moUified  by  the  sight  of  breakfast  coming  lq,  "you 
are  the  paragon  of  your  sex.  You  resemble  the  goddeas 
Diana,  or  Tm  a  dandy !— Diana  rising  from  the  sea;  for 
which  reason  she  was  called  Diana  Urainy.  Ton  are  hex 
very  image !" 

"La,  Captain!"  said  the  lady  with  a  simper,  "you  are 
really  too  flattering  I" 

At  the  same  moment,  a  loud  and  harsh  voice  on  the  stair- 
way was  heard  calling. 

"Who's  that,  in  the  devil's  name  ?"  said  the  Borderer. 

"  Oh,  only  Major  Hastyluck,  who  slept  here  last  night.** 

"  I'll  wager  my  head  against  a  sixpence  that  he  didn't  see 
the  way  to  bed,  madam." 

And  the  Captain's  black  moustache  curled  until  his  long 
white  teeth  resembled  icicles  pendent  from  the  eaves  of  a 
house. 

"  I  fear  he  was — intoxicated,"  was  Mrs.  Butterton's  reply 
with  a  smile;  "how  shocking!" 

"Oh,  dreadful,  awful,  reaUy  deplorable,  my  dear  madam, 
and  what's  he  calling  for? — there  again  !  like  the  growl  of  a 
bear,  or  I'm  a  dandy !" 

In  fact  Major  Hastyluck  was  calling  violently  to  old  Hana, 
the  waiter. 

"Goming,  sir,*  said  Hans  quietly:  and  ascending  leirare- 
iy,  ha  was  heard  ocnveraing  with  the  Major.   Soon  he  reap' 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  COITOT. 


125 


peared,  announcing  that  Major  Hastyluck  was  impatient 

for  his  morning  draught,  and  all  at  once  a  briUiant  thought 
Btruck  the  Captain.  He  had  secured  the  votes  of  precisely 
one  half  of  the  justices,  for  the  establishment  of  the  county- 
Beat  at  Winchester — and  Major  Hastyluck's  vote  would 
decide  all.  The  reflection  stimulated  the  worthy  to  a  tre- 
mendous exertion  of  pohteness.  This  was  no  less  than  to 
send  up  to  the  official  gentleman,  the  flagon  of  delightful 
punch  which  he  had  just  brewed,  with  every  ingredient,  and 
in  the  highest  perfection. 

"Take  that  up,  Hans,  my  hogshead,"  said  the  soldier, 
handing  him  the  cup,  "and  present  it  to  the  Major  with  the 
respects  of  Captain  Wagner." 

Hans  obeyed,  and  very  soon  descended  again,  with  the 
request,  on  the  part  of  the  Major,  that  CaptaiQ  Wagner 
would  brew  him  another  supply.  To  this  task  the  Captain, 
who  had  meanwhile  attended  to  his  own  wants,  addressed 
himself  immediately — and  very  soon  after  the  justice  made 
his  appearance.  He  was  a  little  weasen  man,  with  a  dried 
up  physiogomy,  of  a  fiery  red  hue,  and  carried  himself  with 
an  immense  affectation  of  dignity  and  superiority. 

"My  dear  Major!"  cried  the  Captain,  "I  am  really  de- 
lighted to  see  you — you  arrive  at  a  moment  when  my  heart 
m  open,  just  as  breakfast  is  coming.    How  is  your  health  ?" 

"  Hum ! — ^hah  ! — thank  you.  Captain  Wagner,  pretty  weU, 
pretty  well.    Tou  are  lately  arrived,  sir  ?" 

"  Precisely — from  Belhaven,  on  the  Potomac,  down  there.** 

"A  thriviQg  place." 

"Yes,  but  by  no  means  equal  to  Winchester,  or  I'm  a 
dandy!" 

"  Hum ! — ^perhaps^— hum !" 

And  with  these  oracular  words,  Major  Hastyluck  sat  down 
to  breakfast,  slightly  staggering  as  he  did  so.  His  appe- 
tite once  satisfied,  he  rose  with  the  same  oracuiar  expression 
aad  ail.   The  Captain  soon  followed,  and  lighting  a  com- 


126 


FATBFAX;  OR, 


cob  pipe  with  a  reed  stem,  which  he  toot  from  the  mantel- 
piece, he  addressed  himself  to  business. 

"How  did  you  like  that  beverage  I  sent  you,  my  dear 
Major?"  said  the  Captain,  sending  forth  clouds  of  foamy 
smoke;  "was  it  a  scorcher — as  mild  as  milk,  and  as  strong 
as  a  yoke  of  oxen,  eh  ?" 

"It  was  a  pleasant  draught,"  returned  the  Justice;  "I 
will  freely  say,  more  pleasant  than  any  which  I  have  tasted 
for  many  years — ahem  !'* 

"The  fact  is,  I  make  ii  by  a  recipe  known  only  to  myself, 
and  my  respected  grandmother— /ormerZi/  known  by  that 
excellent  lady,  I  mean — and  as  she  has  now,  alas  !  paid  the 
debt  of  natui'e,  you  understand,  I  am  the  sole  depositary  o* 
the  recipe." 

This  announcement  seemed  to  excite  unusual  interest  in 
breast  of  the  Major.  He  assumed  a  coaxing  expression,  ai  d 
said  in  a  wheedling  voice,  almost  wholly  divested  of  his 
habitual  pomposity  : 

"  Is  it  a  very  great  secret,  Captain  ?" 

" Secret  1"'  cried  the  soldier;  "I  believe  you  !  I  promised 
my  venerable  grandmother  that  no  one  should  ever  worm  it 
out  ol  me." 

"  That  is  unlucky.   I*d  give  a  great  deal  to  have  it,  Captain." 

"Understand  me,"  added  the  Borderer,  curling  his  mous- 
tache, and  assuming  a  serious  expression,  there  was  one 
condition  to  Kiy  promise:  that  those  individuals  who  proved 
themselves  my  true  friends  should  participate  with  me." 

'AjL,  indeed!  Well,  I  trust  that  you  regard  me  as  one 
of  those — hum  1" 

"That  depends  upon  circumstances,  my  dear  Major. 
You  can  easily  convince  me,  however.  Prove  yourself  my 
friend — vote  for  Winchester  for  the  county-seat." 

"  Winchester?  Why,  what  interest  have  you  there,  Cap- 
lain?" 

"  What  interest  ?  Can  you  ask  ?  Are  you  i^orant,  my 
dear  friend,  that  I  poi^sefls  large  and  valuabie  estatea  iiamo^ 


TBS  KASTKEl  OF  GREBKWAr  COUBT  127 


diately  in  that  vicinity?  I  and  my  friends,  General  Adam 
Stephen,  and  Colonel  Carter,  are  the  real  owners  of  all  this 
region,  or  the  devil  take  it !  We  let  Fairfax  hve  yonder  as 
a  favor — and  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  want  the  county 
seat  at  Winchester." 

The  Major  shook  his  little  withered  head  doubtfully. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  comrade,"  retui'ned  the  Captain;  "I 
don't  need  your  vote  as  yet — ^but  I  warn  you  that  you  have 
lost  the  only  chance  of  getting  my  recipe." 

The  Major  groaned. 

"Will  nothing  else  do,  Captain  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"  And  if  I  were  to  make  the  bargain,"  he  «.dded,  looking 
round  guardedly,  "  would  it  be  confidential  ?" 

"Confidential?    I  wouldn't  breathe  it  to  myself." 

"Then  it's  a  bargain  I"  returned  the  worthy;  "  and  now 
for  the  recipe." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  my  dear  Major,"  said  the  Captain;  "  in 
business  matters  I  always  like  to  proceed  regularly.  Let 
me  draw  up  something  in  the  shape  of  a  little  contract — ^it 
will  prevent  mistakes." 

And  going  to  a  table,  he  requested  the  fair  widow  to 
supply  him  with  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  This  was  soon  done 
by  the  smiling  lady,  and  the  worthy  Borderer  spread  a  sheet 
before  him,  and  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink.  After  a  mo- 
ment's reflection,  during  which  he  assisted  the  operations 
of  his  intellect  by  tugging  violently  at  the  black  fringe  upon 
his  lip,  he  traced  upon  the  page,  in  a  large,  sprawling  hand, 
decorated  with  a  myriad  of  ornamental  spatters,  the  follow- 
ing lines : 

••It  is  hereby  agreed  between  Oaptfiin  Julius  Wagner,  otherwise 
tailed  Captain  Bloody  Longknife,  and  Major  Gideon  Hastyinck,  a  jns- 
•lee  of  Frederick,  in  the  parish  of  Shenandoah,  wliich  is  a  fine  conntry, 
or  I  m  a  dandy,  that  in  consideration  of  Captain  Jalins  TVagner,  somo- 
tim^B  callei  Julius  Osesar  'Wagner,  giving  up  to  the  &aid  Hasty  luck  th6 
to  matosg  ram  pOAoIi,  wluoh  redpe  the  said  VTagaor  goi  firoci 


128 


fAIBFAX;  OB, 


his  ftged  and  mnch  deplored  grandmother,  who  resided  in  Stafford 
Ooanty,  and  on  account  of  never  sending  for  doctors,  a  sort  of  people 
that  she  never  conld  bear,  succeeded  in  living  to  almost  the  truly  sur- 
prising and  wonderful  age  of  a  hundred  years — that  as  aforesaid,  in 
consideration  of  Captain  Wagner's  giving  to  the  said  Major  Hasty  hick 
flie  said  recipe,  the  said  Hasty  luck  shaU  vote  for  Winchester,  when  the 
next  court  comes  to  fix  the  county-seat,  as  they  are  bound  to  do,  at  th« 
town  of  Winchester,  which  will  prove  in  the  opinion  of  us,  the  unde- 
signed, the  future  seat  of  empire  of  the  VaUey. 

**  And  to  the  faithful  discharge  of  the  conditions  in  this  paper,  binding 
on  us,  we  the  underwriters,  pledge  our  respective  words,  and  fix  our 
seals — Captain  Julius  Wagner  intending  immediately  to  brew  a  flagon  ci 
the  drink  above  mentioned,  wherewith  both  parties  shall  wet  the  bar« 
gam. 

Captain  Wagner  executed  a  masterly  flourish  beneath  this 
document,  which  he  evidently  regarded  with  much  pride 
and  satisfaction — and  then  affixed  his  name  in  letters  nearly 
an  inch  long.  Major  Hastyluck,  with  a  business-like  air  did 
the  same,  and  the  Borderer  put  the  agreement  in  his 
pocket. 

"And  now  for  the  punch,  Captain — the  recipe  and  the 
*  flagon '  which  I  think  you  speak  of  brewing  in  the  latter 
portion  of  that  document.*' 

"It  shall  be  forthcoming  at  once,  my  dear  Major — at 
once.** 

And  first  carefully  writing  down  the  desired  formula,  the 
worthy  soldier  applied  himself  to  mingling  the  new  supply 
in  silence.  Ere  long  it  was  rapidl;)t  iescending  the  insatiate 
thi-oat  of  Major  Hastyluck  ;  as  to  the  Captain,  he  was  chuck- 
ling to  himself  and  muttering: 

"  I've  the  majority  now,  or  may  the — ^hum  1  jour  health, 
my  dear  Major,  your  very  good  health  1" 

In  this  way  was  the  town  of  Stephensburg  sold  for  a 
fiagon  of  rum  punch  and  tho  recipe  to  make  it.  Kercheval, 
in  his  History  of  the  Valley y  says  :  "  Tradition  relates  that 
Fairfax  was  much  more  partial  to  Stephensburg  than  he 
was  to  Winchester,"  but  an  opponent  "  out-generalled  his 
lordship,  and  by  treating  one  of  the  justioes  to  a  bowl  of 


MASTER  OF  GREEKWAY  COURTo 


129 


toddy,  secured  his  vote  in  favor  of  Winchester,  which  set- 
tled the  question. "  This  is  Mr.  Kercheval's  account.  The 
reader  is  left  to  judge  of  the  relative  credibility  of  the  op- 
posing historians — that  gentleman  and  ourselves. 


m 


KXVL 

THB  DAGOEB  IN  THE  HSAKX. 

HE  occnpants  of  tlie  apartment  were  engaged  afi 

we  have  described,  when  a  step  was  heard  upon 
the  staircase,  and  the  next  moment  Falconbridge 

entered- 

Since  that  night  on  which  Captain  Wagner  had  warr  ed 
him  in  his  gloomy  and  satiric  tones  against  "  panthers,"  and 
their  wiles — since  those  mocking  and  mysterious  words  had 
resounded  in  his  ears,  Falconbridge  had  Uved  like  one  in  d 
dream.  His  quick  instinct  told  him  that  the  soldier  meant 
Miss  Argal.  There  could  be  no  doubt  upon  that  point. 
His  studied  coldness  toward  the  young  lady,  his  grim  ex- 
pression when  he  encountered  her,  the  shadow  on  his  brow 
when  her  name  even  was  mentioned — all  this  left  no  room 
for  doubt. 

Falconbridge  had  shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  and  the 
storm  began  to  mutter  in  his  heart.  His  thoughts,  like 
hounds  unleashed,  darted  forward  and  backward,  circling 
over  the  whole  of  his  life,  past  and  future.  Then  they  re- 
turned with  furious  mouths  to  tear  their  master.  Could 
this  be  anything  but  the  merest  dream,  as  wild  and  unreal 
as  the  sickliest  chimeras,  haimting  the  fancy  of  the  invalid 
turning  and  tossing  on  the  couch  of  fever?  Suspect  those 
brilliant,  limpid  eyes  of  dissimulation  I — suspect  that  open 
and  beautifid  brow  of  concealment! — those  tender  hps  of 
falsehood,  of  treachery !  Treachery  ?  Were  women  treach' 
erou9 1  Could  eyes  and  lips  and  sighs  and  bashful  glanotti 
Ue¥   It  was  incredible,  monstrous!   If  this  were  fio»  theo 


THX  UABrm  OF  GBEl&KWAT  COUBI^  IM 


everything  was  unreal — the  world  a  mere  phantasmagoria 
— and  life  a  cheat,  a  lie,  a  miserable,  horrible  delusion  ! 

Such  thoughts  do  not  pass  through  the  heart  for  the  first 
time  without  making  it  bleed.  The  brow  which  is  racked 
and  furrowed  by  them,  never  afterwards  can  be  smooth. 
The  sincere  and  noble  honesty  of  this  man's  nature  made 
the  blow  one  of  inexpressible  agony.  Suspicion  was  no 
customary  guest  with  him — it  pierced  him  mortally.  Like 
a  rusty  and  jagged  blade  directed  by  an  unskillful  hand,  and 
turned  from  mere  wanton  cruelty  in  the  wound,  it  stretched 
him  on  the  bed  of  torture. 

He  pondered  thus  throughout  the  long  hours  of  the  dreary 
night,  and  for  all  those  hours  succeeding.  He  sent  away 
tjie  food  brought  to  his  room,  untasted.  More  than  once 
he  mounted  Sir  John,  and  galloped  toward  Mr.  Argal's — 
but  it  was  only  to  return  without  going  thither. 

"Well,  weU,"  he  said,  on  the  morning  when  he  re-encoun« 
tered  Captain  Wagner  as  we  have  seen,  "  all  this  shall  end, 
I  will  know;  I  will  not  labor  under  this  terrible  suspicion  1 
Suspect  her?  I  do  not  I  would  as  soon  suspect  an  angeL 
Still  that  singular  look  of  the  soldier  as  he  ispoke ! — those 
words  fuU  of  sneering  coldness!  Yes,  this  shall  end — 1 
swear  it  I" 

And  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  which  was 
clouded  and  pale  from  suffering  and  want  of  rest,  he 
descended. 

"Give  you  good  day,  Captain,"  he  said  in  his  clear,  noble 
voice;  "I  thought  I  heard  your  cheerful  accents." 

"  Wliy,  welcome,  welcome,  comrade,"  returned  the  soldier 
warmly,  and  grasping  the  young  man's  hand  as  he  spoke; 
"  I  swear  the  sight  af  you  is  good  for  sore  eyes,  or  I'm  a 
dandy  1" 

The  Captain  seemed  to  feel  what  he  said.  His  martial 
coimteDance  always  softened  as  he  gazed  at  Falconbridge— 
his  penetrating  eves  grew  wistful;  tiis  man  who  had  fought 
a^[ain«t  the  hard«  rough  woxld  so  long,  and  encountered  90 


182 


FAIRFAX;  OB| 


muob  Belfialiness,  falsehood  and  deception,  appeared  to  ex* 
perience  a  real  delight  in  the  company  of  his  younger  com« 
panion,  and  to  regard  him  with  a  strange  affection. 

"  I'm  dooms  glad  to  see  you  after  having  so  long  a  slang 
whang  with  Fairfax,"  added  the  soldier,  "  but  you  are  look- 
ing badly,  Falconbridge;  you  are  as  white  as  a  ghost 
What's  the  matter?'* 

"  Nothing,  nothing,  comrade." 

"Tou  want  fresh  air,  or  I'm  mistaken." 

"  I  really  think  you  are  right.  Captain,  and  I'm  going  to 
take  some.    I  see  Sir  John  coming  to  the  door." 

"  Oh,  you  ride — ^you  are  going  to  see  "  

"  Miss  Argal,"  interrupted  Falconbridge,  with  his  proud, 
open  look,  full  of  sincerity  and  truth;  "it  is  three  or  foui 
days  since  I  saw  her." 

And  going  to  the  door,  he  threw  a  critical  glance  at  Sir 
John,  who  whinnied  with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  his  mas- 
ter. The  young  man,  with  his  delicate  hand  half  covered 
with  lace  which  filled  his  great  barrel  sleeves,  caressed  gen- 
tly the  white  neck  of  the  thoroughbred:  and  as  he  gazed  at 
the  beautiful  animal,  full  of  spirit  and  fire,  his  weary  brow 
cleared  up  slightly. 

All  at  once  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder.  He 
tamed  round.  Captain  Wagner  was  beside  him;  and  his 
face  wore  the  same  cold  and  gloomy  expression  which  had 
characterized  it  on  the  night  ride. 

Falconbridge,"  he  said  in  a  low,  earnest  tone,  "have 
you  any  confidence  in  me — do  you  regard  me  as  a  true  man 
— as  an  honest  soldier — as  a  friend  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Falconbridge,  passing  his  hand  slowly  over 
the  neck  of  the  animal,  and  speaking  in  a  very  low  voice. 

"  Well,  you  do  me  no  more  than  justice.  I  swear  to  yon 
that  I  love  you  as  I  would  love  a  son,  though  you're  no 
chicken,  but  a  stout-hearted  and  stout-armed  cavalier,  or 
the  devil  take  it  1  Well,  I  act  as  your  friend  when  I  say. 
take  oare  what  you  do  I   Beware  1" 


THE  MASTER  OP  GKEEKWAY  COURT. 


133 


And  turning  away,  the  soldier,  who  had  lost  all  his  cheer- 
fulness, and  gay  spirit,  slowly  re-entered  the  house. 

Falconbridge  followed  him  with  his  eyes  until  he  disap- 
peared— turned  even  paler  than  before — and  a  sort  of  lurid 
light  broke  from  his  eyes.  He  evidently  hesitated  for  a 
moment  whether  to  follow  and  extract  from  the  soldier  a 
complete  explanation  of  his  meaning,  or  seek  it  from  the 
person  accused.  His  hesitation  did  not  last  long.  He  set 
his  teeth  together  like  a  vice,  leaped  into  the  saddle,  and 
driving  the  spur  into  the  side  of  his  horse,  set  forward  like 
lightning  on  the  road  to  Mr.  Argal's. 

He  drew  up  at  the  door  so  suddenly  that  his  horse  was 
thrown  upon  his  haunches.  In  a  moment  he  had  entered 
the  house,  and  was  in  the  presence  of  Miss  Argal,  who 
greeted  him  with  the  warmest  favor. 

''You  have  been  away  so  long!"  she  said,  in  her  caress- 
ing voice,  and  with  a  look  from  her  black,  lustrous  eyes, 
full  of  such  electric  fascination  that  it  turned  the  young 
man's  head  almost:  ''so  very  long — ^for  nearly  four  days!" 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


xxvn 

FALOONBRIDQS  FABTS  WITH  HIS  MOTHEB's  BXSQ. 

HE  breast  of  Faloonbridge  thrilled  with  a  vague 
excitement,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  beautiful 
young  woman,  so  innocent  and  pure-looking,  hia 
racking  suspicions  began  to  disappear,  and  his 
confidence  to  return.  "Were  not  those  suspicions  mere 
foUy — a  baseness  and  disloyalty  even  ?  Could  any  one  look 
into  that  fair  faco,  and  believe  for  an  instant  that  it 
masked  a  heart  full  of  guile?  For  the  instant  his  possess- 
ing thought  disappeared — ^he  no  longer  doubted — ^he  yielded 
to  the  enchantment  of  eye  and  lip  and  voice. 

But  this  change  could  not  be  permanent;  Falconbridge 
was  no  weak  and  vacillating  boy,  whose  moods  at  the  mo- 
ment govern  his  opinions,  and  actions.  Those  acrid  and 
bitter  meditatiaiiff  during  the  long  hours  which  he  had 
pasised  in  louf-liness  and  silence  had  impressed  him  too 
deeply.  Thus  Ms  face  became  overclouded,  and  Lis  head 
drooped.  To  the  soft  and  caressing  reproach  contained  in 
the  wordis,  *'You  have  been  away  so  longl"  he  therefore  re- 
plied with  sorrowful  calmness  : 

"  Are  you  sure  you  cared  to  see  me?" 
The  young  lady  turned  her  head  aside,  and  a  slight  color, 
like  the  first  blush  of  morning,  stole  over  her  cheek.  Then 
from  the  red  hps  came  in  a  whisper  almost,  the  words  : 
"  Very  sure." 

"Falconbridge  gfized  at  her  for  a  moment  with  an  ex- 
pression of  ardent  lovo,  mingled  with  bitter  anguish,  and 
said,  in  suppressed  tones : 

^*Yoa  are  so  beautifoll — so  very  beantifall  Are  you 
lamer 


im  mffum  of  geeenway  cotJE!k  136 


She  turned  her  head  quickly,  and  fixed  upon  hin.  a  ^  moe 
Cehich  seemed  intended  to  read  his  very  soul.  Thai  aL  ex 
pression  of  coldness  and  hauteur  rose  to  tlie  beautiful  face 
and  she  said  with  frigid  ceremony  : 

"  Are  you  aware  of  what  you  are  saying,  Mr.  Falcon 
bridge  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes — unhappily  I  am,"  was  the  young  man's  reply » 
"  and  I  can  understand  your  resentment.  Tou  find  my 
accent  harsh,  my  words  insulting,  even.  Tou  see  that  thii 
question  is  not  an  idle  jest,  Miss  ArgaJ  Tou  start  at  my 
address,  at  my  coldness,  the  solemnity  ot  my  demand.  But 
the  question  is  not  asked  by  chance.  I  most  solemnly  pro- 
pound it !  Not  my  lips,  not  my  words,  no !  my  heart,  my 
soul  cry  out  to  you.  Answer  me,  for  pity's  sake,  for  the 
Bake  of  all  that  is  x^ure  and  trntliful !" 

The  cold  expression  m  tJie  eyes  of  the  young  lady  grew 
ice     With  a  frigid  erection  of  her  superb  head,  she  said  : 

"Are  you  unwell,  Mr.  Faloonbridge,  or  is  your  mind 
affected?" 

"No,  no!  I  am  well,  if  a  man  whose  heart  dies  in  hia 
breast  is  well  I  I  am  sane,  if  a  mind  stretched  on  the  rack 
may  be  called  sane  I  I  mean  what  I  say — I  have  heard 
what  makes  me  ask — do  not  demand  what  it  is,  I  cannot 
reply.  I  suflfer  so  poignantly  that  I  must  put  an  end  to  my 
distress,  or  it  will  put  an  end  to  me !  For  worlds — for  cha 
universe  I  would  not  pain  you — would  die  a  thousand 
deaths  rather — but "  

He  was  interrupted  by  the  voice  of  the  young  lady.  That 
Toice  had  suddenly  changed.  It  was  no  longer  cold;  her 
manner  had  passed  from  hauteur  to  anguish.  Turning 
aside  and  covering  her  face  with  her  handkerchief,  she 
sobbed  repeatedly,  and  at  last  uttered  the  broken  words  : 

"  If  you — would  not — pain  me — why  do  you  speak — so— 
cruelly  to  me— >so  unieelingly — so  "  

There  the  voice  died  away. 

The  aoconts  went  to  the  young  man's  heart.   The  Bobs 


IM 


PAIKFAI;  Om, 


Bmote  down  aJl  his  coldness.  The  sight  of  the  loTely  form 
bent  down,  and  shaken  with  agitation,  dissipated  all  hii 
resolution,  and  drove  away  every  suspicion,  ag  the  winds  ol 
March  drive  away  the  clouds  from  the  clear  blue  sky* 

All  the  profound  loyalty  and  truth  of  his  nature  wai 
aroused — all  his  abhorrence  of  injustice  and  unkindnesB. 
He  took  the  young  lady's  hand  in  his  own — ^pressed  it 
ardently,  and  begged  her  forgiveness  for  his  cruel  and  un- 
founded suspicion. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  in  his  sincere,  noble  voice,  casting 
upon  his  companion,  as  he  spoke,  a  glance  of  unspeakable 
love,  pardon  your  poor  friend  for  the  harsh  and  insulting 
words  he  has  uttered.  I  know  not  why  I  spoke  so — I  know 
not  how  these  thoughts  ever  entered  my  unfortunate  brain. 
Enough  ;  in  pity  let  us  speak  of  this  no  more.  So  we  are 
friends  again — are  we  not  ?" 

And  he  bent  forward  to  look  into  her  face.  That  face 
was  raised,  and  the  black  eyes  were  riveted  upon  his  own 
with  a  sorrowful  forgiveness,  a  tender  melancholy  which 
were  inexpressibly  beautiful.  They  swam  in  tears — ^but 
through  the  tears  broke  a  sad  smile  which  made  the  hear! 
of  the  young  man  bound  in  his  bosom  with  wild  delight. 
Carried  away  by  a  rush  of  emotion,  he  pressed  the  hand 
which  he  held  to  his  lips,  and  said,  passionately  : 

"Do  not  weep — ^your  tears  make  ne  wretched!  Never 
shall  I  forgive  myself  for  the  cruel  and  unmanly  conduct 
which  I  have  to-day  been  gTiilty  of,  I  came  here  with  my 
heart  on  fire,  my  brain  in  a  tumult — I  have  been  unjust, 
insulting,  mad,  almost — I  could  not  help  it.  I  spoke  thus 
because  my  mind  was  whirling,  my  nerves  trembling  —be- 
cause— because  I  love  you ! — ^yes,  presumptuous  as  you  may 
think  the  words  in  a  mere  stranger — love  you — with  hon- 
est, faithful  love!" 

Enough — we  forbear  from  pursuing  further  the  details  oi 
the  scene  between  the  young  lady  and  Palcoubridge.  We 


m  MABTKK  OF  GBEILXWAY  OOWL  137 


hare  little  skill  in  reporting  such  dialogues,  and  must  iraw 
the  veil  over  the  rest. 

He  remained  until  late  in  the  evening,  and  then  returned 
at  full  gallop  toward  the  Ordinary,  his  face  the  very  imper- 
sonation of  joy.  At  times  he  gazed  wistfully  upon  his  left 
hand,  from  which  a  ring  was  missing — a  plain  gold  ring 
which  had  belonged  to  his  mother.  He  had  placed  it  upon 
the  finger  of  the  young  girl,  for  she  had  pKghted  to  him  her 
troth. 

Here  we  would  gladly  leave  the  young  cavaHer — ^with  his 
face  smiling,  his  cheeks  glowing — his  pulse  beating  joyfully 
as  he  galloped  on  through  the  prairie  and  forest.  But  the 
fatal  current  of  our  narrative  keeps  us  beside  him.  Those 
smiles  are  brief  ones — ^the  bloom  of  the  happy  cheek  evane» 
cent  as  the  frail  spring  blossom — ^the  blow  awaits  him. 

He  dismounts  at  the  door  of  the  Ordinary  and  entera 
The  fat  landlord  presents  him  with  a  letter  which  he  opetis, 
smilingly. 

Ten  minutes  afterward  he  is  seated  in  his  cr.amber,  hiii 
brow  leaning  upon  his  crossed  arms,  resting  upon  a  table 
—his  cheeks  as  pale  as  a  ghost's — his  forehead  moist  with 
icy  perspiration.  The  shudders  whioh  pass'  through  hia 
frame  rattle  the  paper  still  clenched  in  his  nervous  grasp- 
but  no  groan  issues  from  his  lips. 


188 


TAXBTAX:  OB, 


XXYHL 

THE  LETTER. 

HIS  is  the  letter  accompanying  another  paper 

which  is  stained  with  blood. 

**Mb.  FALCONBRn)GE  I — Afltcr  mnch  doubt  I  address  you, 
to  warn  you,  as  a  friend,  against  allowing  your  affections  to  be  ensnared 
by  Miss  B.  Argal.  I  have  no  right,  sir,  to  pry  into  your  matters,  and 
maybe  I  will  get  no  thanks,  but  your  courtesy  to  me  maKes  it  imposfid- 
ble  for  me  to  see  you  duped.  Captain  Wagner  will  not  speak  out — ha 
Bays  that  he  has  already  said  more  than  he  had  a  right  to — and  I  will, 
therefore,  do  so  myself.  The  paper  which  I  put  in  this  letter  will  tell 
you  all.  The  poor  young  man  was  a  distant  reJiitive  of  mine,  and  died 
at  my  house.  He  wrote  the  paper  just  before  Ids  death.  I  will  add  no 
more,  except  that  I  have  no  private  grudge  against  Miss  Argal,  and  so 
remain,  Your  real  friend, 

Sahah  Buttebton." 

The  paper  was  written  in  a  firm  hand,  obscured  in  several 
places  by  stains  of  blood,  and  ran  as  follows  : 

•*Staxpoi6i»  Va.,  ifoy,  lUl. 
*'  I  am  about  to  commit  suicide.    Before  putting  an  *^nd  to  my  misera- 
ble life,  I  will  relate  the  circumstances  which  impel  me  tu  the  act.  My 
mind  is  perfectly  sane,  my  memory  good — will  speak  calmly.    This  ia 
my  history : 

**  1  was  left  an  orphan  at  twenty,  with  no  brothers  or  sisters  arunnd 
me-  my  oniy  brother,  who  was  older  than  myself,  having  perished  on  a 
sea-voyage.  I  was  ricli — the  entire  property  of  my  paionts  having  re- 
verted to  myself.  I  enjoyed  country  life  ou  my  property,  and  was  fond 
of  the  society  of  young  ladies,  but  never  loved  any  one  until  I  met  with 
Bert na  Argal .  Her  father  rented  a  small  faim  near  my  own  considera- 
ble estate,  and  I  met  with  her  frequently,  and  conceived  a  passion  for 
aer.  She  was,  and  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  that  my  eyes  ever  be 
held.  Unfortonatdf  she  is  dsstltate  ol  all  those  aoble  q^iuJities  wUok 


^  MASTSB  07  GBEEKWAY  GOTTBaB.  189 


diofild  ftocompany  beauty.    She  is  false,  and  as  cold  as  ice--heartl6ML 
But  I  will  not  say  more — let  the  event  show. 

•*  I  loved  her  passionately,  and  very  soon  commenced  paying  her  my  ad^  i 
dresses.  She  received  them  with  manifest  favor.    It  was  not  longbefon 
I  confessed  my  affection,  and  she  told  me  with  tears  and  blushes,  that  she 
loved  me  as  ardently  as  I  said  I  loved  her.    I  will  never  forget  her  words 
or  her  locks  ;  they  are  engraven  on  my  memory.    Well,  to  be  brief,  we  j 
vere  contracted  in  marriage  ;  it  was  fixed  for  a  day  not  more  than  three 
months  off,  when  my  elder  brother,  who  had  been  given  up  as  lost  at 
Bea,  five  years  before,  suddenly  made  his  appearance.    He  had  been 
taken  prisoner  by  a  Spanish  vessel,  carried  to  Cadiz,  and  thrown  into  «  ' 
dungeon  there,  as  a  suspected  character  ;  his  identity  being  mistakeit,  j 
He  had  finally  been  liberated  however,  and  so  came  back.    I  need  not  ■ 
tell  anybody  who  knows  me,  tliat  I  did  not  regret  this,  or  grudge  my 
brother  the  estate,  which  as  eldest  son  he  deprived  me  of;  reducing 
me  from  an  independent  gentleman  of  large  possessions,  to  a  dependent  ' 
on  his  bounty.    I  loved  him,  and  he  loved  me.    I  looked  up  to  him;  he  ; 
was  my  superior  in  mind  as  in  strength  and  stature  ;  and  I  was  content 
to  occupy  my  rightful  position  of  younger  brother  and  inferior.  \ 

"Not  long  after  his  return,  Harley  saw  Bertha  Argal,  and  in  spite  of  < 
his  knowledge  of  my  engagement,  loved  her.    In  this  there  was  no  dis-  ! 
loyalty — no  intention  to  become  my  rival.    He  would  have  scorned  the  j 
imputation,  but  he  loved  her.    He  could  not  help  it.    The  dazzling  j 
beauty  of  the  girl,  her  fascinating,  bewildering  witchery,  were  too  much  I 
for  his  resolution.    I  saw  that  he  loved  her,  but  at  fiist  gave  myself  no  j 
sort  of  uneasiness  about  it.   I  knew  that  Harley  was  the  soul  of  honor  ;  j 
would  as  soon  cut  off  his  right  hond  as  commit  a  base  action ;  and  as  to  i 
Bertha  Argal,  I  was  quite  at  rest.    At  that  time  I  laughed  at  the  idea  oi  j 
treachery  in  a  creature  so  pure  and  beautiful.    Well,  the  sequel  will  j 
show.    Six  months  after  my  brother's  arrival,  the  young  lady  began  to  | 
grow  cold  toward  me,  and  waim  toward  my  brother.    I  told  her  of  it ; 
Bhe  laughed  in  my  face.    She  grew  fonder  and  fonder  of  my  brother.  I 
became  angry.    She  sneered  at  my  anger.    K I  was  displeased,  she  said, 
at  my  brother's  attentions,  why  not  bring  it  to  the  decision  of  arms  t  j 
we  both  wore  swords  !   These  satirical  words  impressed  me  horribly  ;  ■] 
the  young  lady  was  coming  out  in  her  real  colors.    I  said  nothing,  and  | 
terminated  my  visit ;  but  I  went  again  the  next  day,  for  I  had  no  will  to  j 
resist ;  I  was  mad  about  her.    Thus  things  continued  until  a  month  j 
ago.    Then  I  found  that  she  had  been  poisoning  my  brotlier's  mind  j 
against  me.    He  became  cold  to  me,  and  ere  long  my  presence  in  the 
bouse,  our  lather's  house,  became  an  evident  constraint  on  him.  One 
moniing,  however,  he  rettimed  from  Mr.  Argal's,  whither  he  had  beea 
on  bofliiiess  mih  a  strange  glow  in  kis  che^  and  greeted  me  with  long  I 


140 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


dimiMd  affeotioiL  He  seemed  to  look  at  me  aompassionately.  8om«* 
tiling  told  me  that  this  foreboded  evil,  and  I  galloped  over  to  see  Bertluk 
I  had  guessed  correctly,  She  embraced  that  occasion,  she  said,  to  ia« 
form  me  that  I  might  give  up  all  thoughts  of  marrying  her  ;  she  had  no 
reason  to  give  ;  it  was  her  decision  !  She  looked  like  a  queen  as  she 
spoke,  and  I  remained  for  a  moment  looking  at  her,  pale  and  silent. 
Then  I  said,  *  Was  this  what  made  Harley  so  kind  to  me,  so  compassioa* 
ate?  Did  you  inform  him  of  your  intention?'  *Well,  sir,*  was  her  re- 
ply, *  suppose  I  did  ?  I  beg  you  will  in  future  con  fine  yourself  to  yoni 
own  affairs,  and  not  subject  me  to  the  inquisition.*  She  was  furious, 
but  as  beautiful  as  an  aroused  leopardess.  I  was  white  with  rage,  but  I 
loved  her  passionately  stilL  I  glared  at  her  for  an  instant,  and  then 
replied,  *  This  will  end  badly.  Miss  Argal— no  young  lady  can  trifle  with 
a  gentleman  with  impunity.'  Her  lip  curled,  and  she  said,  coolly,  *  Oh, 
you  mean  you  are  going  to  fight  Harley  ?  Well,  why  don't  you  try  it, 
sir  ?  Are  you  afraid  that  he  is  a  better  swordsman,  and  will  finish  you  ? 
I  have  no  doubt  this  is  you]  objection,  and  I  don't  believe  you  would 
dare  to  face  him  !'  I  solemnly  declare  thai  these  were  her  exact  words. 
I  leave  the  readers  of  this  paper  to  decide  if  in  many  cases  they  would 
not  have  produced  that  awlul  tragedy,  a  mortal  contest  between  brothers. 
I  said  nothing,  however ;  I  looked  at  her  with  pale  and  trembling  lipg 
only,  and  went  away.  Three  days  afterwards,  Harlej  was  called  to  Mr. 
Argal's  again,  and  on  his  return  looked  serious  and  troubled.  'Ml8s 
Argal  is  a  singular  -person,'  he  said  to  me  after  dinner,  with  great 
gloom  :  *  can  she  wish  to  place  you  and  me,  Charles  opposite  each  other 
with  swords  in  our  hands  ?  I  should  so  imagine  from  her  conversation 
*o-day  ;  a  strange  person !'  I  did  not  reply,  except  oy  some  common- 
placa  I  loved  the  young  woman  still  with  too  passionate  a  love.  I 
could  not  speak  against  her.  For  more  thai  two  weeks  thereafter,  I  was 
her  slave,  her  dog.  I  crawled  back  when  sue  lashed  me  away,  and  tried 
to  kiss  the  hand  which  struck  ma  I  say  this,  because  aU  the  truth  shaU 
be  known.  I  have  no  resolution — I  never  had  any  ;  I  am  the  powerless 
Tictim  of  this  infatuation  ;  and  if  this  moment  Bertha  Argid  were  to 
enter  the  room,  and  smile  on  me — oven  after  all — I  would  obey  her  in 
anything  she  commanded 

"But  my  narrative  must  come  to  an  end.  Four  days  ago  1  went  ta 
see  her  for  the  last  time.  She  met  me  with  scorn  and  satiricd  smiles, 
which  soon  became  sneers.  So  I  had  determined  not  to  be  whipped 
\way.  had  I?'  she  asked  :  •!  had  come  sneaking  back  to  moan  out  that 
she  no  longer  loved  me  ;  that  she  lOved  my  brother,  which  she  now 
begged  leave  to  inform  me  was  a  fact,  and  that  I  was  wretched.'  *  Yes, 
I  said,  *^  jroa  say  is  trae.*   'Thoa  jou  are  a  fool  for  your  paizui,  sii^ 


nOE  ICAOTEB  QV  OKEENWAl  OOTJBT. 


141 


fihe  micL,  ^»nd  your  presence  makes  me  sick.  You,  tk  brother  of  Hark^y 
Ausfciii  I  you,  with  your  feeble  snivelling  complaints,  and  begging,  thii 
brother  of  that  strong,  resolute  man  !  Yes,  sir !  I  love  him,  and  he  shaD 
love  me  ;  and  if  you  don't  like  that,  you  may  put  an  end  to  yourself  ;  it 
win  be  a  matter  of  very  small  interest  to  me  !*  I  looked  at  her  as  she 
spoke,  and  shuddered.  She  was  super-humanly  beautiful ;  I  would  hare 
given  all  the  countless  worlds  of  the  sky,  had  I  possessed  them,  to  have 
clasped  her  for  a  single  moment  in  my  arms.  She  saw  her  influence 
over  me,  and  her  lip  curled.  *  You  haven't  resolution,  however,  for  the 
act,*  she  said;  *  if  I  were  a  man,  and  fortune  went  against  me,  I'd  do  as 
the  ancients  did,  get  rid  of  life.  And  now,  sir,  you  will  please  leave  me, 
I  am  tired  of  you.  Ah  !  here  comes  Harley  !'  And  turning  her  back  on 
me,  she  hastened  to  the  window,  and  smiled  at  the  visitor. 

"I  set  my  teeth  close,  put  on  my  hat,  and  went  out.  Harley  and  I 
passed  each  other  with  some  constraint  on  his  part ;  I  was  quite  calm, 
for  I  had  made  up  my  mind.  I  returned  to  the  hall  and  wrote  on  a 
piece  of  paper  which  I  knew  would  meet  my  brother's  eye,  the  words  : 
*  Think  well,  before  you  marry  Bertha  Argal,  brother.  She  has  broken 
my  heart — attempted  to  drive  me  to  a  bloody  combat  with  you,  knowing 
who  would  be  victor,  and  now  advises  me  to  end  my  despair  by  my  own 
hand.  T  obey,  for  life  has  no  longer  any  charm  for  me.  Farewell.*  I 
signed  this,  and  have  come  hither  to  Mrs.  Butterton's  to  write  and  leave 
12ns  paper. 

**In  five  minutes  I  shall  be  dead.  Chakles  Austin." 

rhese  were  the  words  wliich  Falconbridge  read — ^then  hii 
glance  fell  upon  these  others  in  addition,  in  Mrs.  Bptterton'a 
band-writing  : 

The  poor  young  man  was  found  dead  when  we  ran  at 
the  explosion  of  his  pistol  This  paper  was  lying  on  the 
table.  Mr.  Harley  Austin  returned  it  to  me,  not  wishing  to 
keep  it ;  he  has  since  left  the  country." 

Ealconbridge  remained  motionless  throughout  the  entire 
night.  As  the  sun  streamed  in,  he  raised  his  face,  which 
was  covered  with  a  deadly  pallor,  and  groaned. 


fiiBfAz;  (m. 


XXEL 

THE  THBEADS  OP  THB  WOOF» 

OTJRS,  days  and  weeks  have  fled  away  since  thii 

scenes  and  events  whicli  we  have  endeavored  to 
place  before  the  reader's  eyes.  The  year  wanes 
fast.  The  briUiant  sunlight  of  October  has 
yielded  to  the  hazy  influences  of  November.  The  sky  is  no 
longer  blue:  the  trees  are  dismantled  of  their  splendid 
trappings.  Under  the  chUl  heaven  of  a  leaden  color,  the 
broad  face  of  nature  resembles  some  great  hall,  from  which 
the  gorgeous  hangings  have  been  torn,  the  trophies  of  ban- 
ners removed — in  which  the  lights  are  slowly  going  out,  as 
after  a  great  revel,  when  the  guests  have  all  departed. 

The  plover  cries  and  the  partridge  whistles  on  the  wind- 
swept hiUs — the  wild  geese  wing  their  way  toward  the 
south — the  crane  stalks  with  a  sombre  and  weird  air  among 
the  shallows  of  the  water-courses,  dreaming,  you  would  say, 
of  other  lands — and  from  the  northwest  wander  cutting 
blasts,  j)reluding  the  approach  of  winter. 

But  the  human  hearts  beneath  the  chilly  sky  beat  as  be- 
fore. The  personages  of  our  drama  follow  still,  the  bent  ol 
tb^ir  diver sse  pasr  ons,  humors,  and  desires.  The  not  blood 
in  their  veins  pul^^cttes,  and  hastens  to  and  fro,  as  strongly. 

Lord  Fairfax  pnd  Captain  Wagner  hold  interminable  dis- 
cussions on  the  state  of  the  border,  and  the  best  means  ol 
defence,  now  that  the  Indian  inroad  may  be  soon  expected 
The  worthy  solc^'^r  is  content  to  pass  his  time  thus — alter- 
nately debatin^j^  with  his  lordship,  and  pursuing  hia  own 
special  carapai^  against  the  enemy  at  Van  Boring's  Ordi- 
nary: he  sleeps,  and  eats,  and  drinks,  and  pnilosophizes,  no% 
without  many  camp  expletives,  uttered  in  a  jovial  ftnd  son- 


THE  MASTEB  Df  ORBEimAr  OOtTBI.  148 


orous  voice,  the  sound  of  which  seems  encouraging  to  the 
Earl,  for  he  greets  these  outbreaks  on  the  part  of  the  Cap- 
tain, with  his  uniform  grim  smile. 

Meanwhile  George  is  occupied  by  his  own  affairs  also. 
He  surveys  the  surrounding  lands  assiduously  for  the  Earl ; 
Bleeps  often  in  the  woods,  his  head  resting  on  his  knapsack; 
and  it  happens  that  the  direction  of  his  toils  is  often  toward 
the  south. 

There  the  great  Fort  Mountain  raises  its  double  waU,  blue 
against  the  dun  heaven,  and  within  the  embraces  of  the 
shaggy  arms — perched  like  an  eagle's  nest  in  the  declivity 
of  the  mountain — he  sees  the  cottage  in  which  Cannie  lives. 
He  loves  the  Httle  maiden  now  with  the  fondest  devotion. 
She  has  become  aU  the  world  to  him,  and  dwells  in  his 
thoughts  wherever  his  footsteps  turn — in  the  prairie,  and 
the  forest,  by  night  and  by  day;  it  is  always  Cannie  of  whom 
the  ycuth  is  dreaming;  around  her  he  weaves  that  tissue  of 
romance  and  fancy  which  the  bounding  heart  of  youth 
adorns  with  such  resplendent  gems.  George  goes  often  to 
the  mountain  dwelling,  and  there  all  the  outer  world  disap- 
pears. He  is  alone  in  the  great  universe  with  one  whose 
grave,  sweet  smile  Hghts  up  his  hfe — whose  frank,  open 
brow  is  the  mirror  of  truth  and  goodness — ^in  whose  eyes  he 
finds  the  charm  which  only  exists  for  the  youthful  lover 
And  Cannie  now  no  longer  looks  upon  him  as  a  stranger. 
He  has  become  day  by  day,  more  an  influence  upon  her  hii 
— ^her  innocent  heart  beats  fast  when  his  tall  and  erect  fig- 
m*o  enters  the  doorway — when  his  sunny  smile,  Hghting  uj 
the  firm  lips,  and  frank,  true  face,  beams  on  her.  She  does 
not  disguise  her  affection  now,  tor  she  knows  it  is  returned 
— ^but  her  fondness  for  her  youthful  companion  never  be- 
trays itself  in  a  maimer  repugnant  to  the  most  deHcate 
maiden  modesty.  It  is  Ca»nie's  natui'e  to  be  honest  tine 
true — but  she  is  ripemng  into  a  ''young  lady"  now;  and  sc 
George  can  only  guess  from  the  serious  smile,  and  Idndljf 
i^€8»  her  secret 


VAIBFAX  OB, 


Their  lires  gKde  on  thus,  and  no  incident  breaks  the  9pel] 
which  is  woven  day  by  day  more  closely  around  the  young 
hearts  of  the  maiden  and  the  youth.  The  old  grandfather 
alone  with  his  books,  bis  chemical  machines,  or  with  whatever 
occupies  his  attention;  they  are  by  themselves  in  the  world 
of  reverie  and  fancy.  It  is  true,  that  from  time  to  time,  as 
they  wander  like  happy  children  along  the  mountain  side, 
or  to  the  lofty  brow  of  the  sleeping  giant,  that  a  shadowy 
figure  follows  and  marks  the  way  they  take — but  this  figure 
is  unseen  by  them.  It  is  the  young  Indian  whom  the  reader 
has  once  looked  upon,  on  that  beautiful  day  of  October — 
hidden  among  the  leafy  branches  of  the  great  oak,  and  de- 
scending to  follow,  then,  as  now,  the  footsteps  of  the  pair 
He  still  preserves  his  air  of  grave  and  lofty  dignity — ^his  eyefl 
have  the  same  expression  of  mild  truth  and  honesty — his 
lips  move  as  before,  and  utter  the  sad  murmur  which  seema 
to  indicate  a  possessing  thought.  His  eyes  never  wander 
from  the  form  of  Cannie  when  she  is  in  the  circle  of  his  vis- 
ion— ^he  seldom  betrays  any  other  emotion  than  a  jealous, 
watchful  guardianship  over  her  ;  if  his  features  contract 
sUghtly,  and  his  broad  bosom  heaves,  when  she  bestows 
upon  her  companion  some  Httle  mark  of  her  affection,  this 
exhibition  of  feeling  is  soon  suppressed  ;  the  old  gravdty  re- 
turns ;  and  the  young  chief  glides  into  the  deep  woods,  and 
disappears,  as  Hghtly  and  silently  as  a  shadow. 

And  Falconbridge — ^what  of  him?  Has  the  darkness 
which  enveloped  aU  his  hfe  upon  that  awful  evening,  when 
he  read  the  letter  of  the  suicide,  been  dissipated  ? 

Wholly. 

A  few  days  afterwards  he  encountered  Captain  Wagner  at 
the  Ordinary  ;  the  soldier,  who  had  been  informed  by  Mrs. 
Butterton  of  the  step  which  she  had  taken,  almost  feared  to 
meet  the  young  man,  or  witness  his  agony.  He  expected  to 
find  Falconbridge  bowed  to  the  earth  with  anguish — ^to  hear 
only  groans  and  stifled  sighs — to  st>e,  in  the  pale  cheek,  th« 
laok^lostre  eye^  the  droopinn^  form,  thoae  evideMos  of  raf" 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAT  OGTTKr. 


145 


Csrmg  "Vfliicli  betray  the  victim  of  despair.  Instead  of 
snch  a  figure,  he  saw  Falconbridge  happy,  smiling,  buoyant. 
Hifl  head  rose  proudly  erect;  his  eyes  shone  with  a  joyous 
light;  his  hps  were  wreathed  with  smiles;  he  was  the  picture 
of  one  across  whose  brow  a  cloud  has  never  passed.  The 
worthy  Captain  started,  and  looked  with  unfeigned  astonish- 
ment upon  his  companion.  The  quick  eye  of  Falconbridge 
discerned  at  once  the  meaning  of  this  expression.  He 
laughed  gaily,  and  then  said,  with  earnest  simplicity: 

"I  know  why  you  start  so,  comrade — why  you  are  as- 
tounded at  seeing  me  thus  happy-looking.  That  well-mean- 
ing lady,  your  friend,  has  doubtless  told  you  of  her  warning 
to  me.  It  was  honest  and  kind  in  her — ^but  it  made  me 
very  miserable." 

"And  then,"  said  Captain  Wagner  gloomily,  "what  hap- 
pened afterwards?*'* 

"What  happened?  Why  what  could  happen,  comrade? 
I  went  to  the  person  charged  with  this  awful  dupHcity  and 
heartlessness.  I  asked  her  to  say  what  was  the  rt^al  truth — 
and  I  heard  it.  She  raged  at  the  accusation  ;  vainly  at- 
tempted to  extort  from  me  the  author — and  then  giving  way 
to  her  feelings,  burst  into  tears,  and  told  me  all  ,  explained 
everything." 

"Oh!  she  explained  everything,  did  she?"  said  Captain 
Wagner,  with  gloomy  irony;  "  no  doubt  she  made  all  quite 
dear." 

"  Oh,  perfectly !  How  could  your  friend  have  seriously 
thought  that  paper  written  by  the  poor  unfortunate  youth 
'who  killed  himself,  an  actual  narrative  of  facts  ?" 

"It  was  all  a  romance  then?"  said  the  Captain,  with  the 
same  sardonic  contortion  of  his  lip,  *'it  was  only  a  little  im- 
aginary story  which  he  amused  himself  in  writing,  to  wile 
away  the  time  before  he  blew  his  brains  out!" 

"Captain,  Captain!"  said  Falconbridge  earnestly,  "your 
voice  has  a  terrible  sneer  in  it ;  your  curling  lip  betrays  scorn 
und  incredulity  1" 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


*'  Well,  it  betrays  what  I  feel/'  retnmod  the  soldier,  look- 
ing at  the  young  man  with  wistful  and  gloomy  eyes  ;  "  it 
talks  plainly,  does  this  curling  lip  you  speak  of,  or  I'm  a 
dandy!  But  111  uncurl  it;  rU  sneer  no  more;  I'll  no4 
wound  you  Falconbridge — and  have  only  to  say  that  'twas 
fcroly  unfortunate  that  this  mad  youth  made  up  such  a  horri- 
ble story." 

"  Mad  /"  said  Falconbridge,  with  a  quick  glance  at  bin 
companion,  "  then  you  heard  of  his  madness !" 

"  No,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  "  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  is 
the  fair  young  lady's  explanation." 

"  Yes,  assuredly !  who  could  have  doubted  it  ?  The  truth 
is  that  the  unhappy  lover's  tale  was  only  the  sick  fancy  of  a 
diseased  mind.  He  did  pay  his  addresses  to  Lliss  Argal — he 
did  love  her  passionately — ^but  she  told  him  frankly  a  hun- 
dred times  that  she  could  not  respond  to  his  affection.  She 
tried  to  do  this  as  kindly  and  tenderly  as  possible,  but  her 
reply  only  enraged  him.  There  was  a  tendency  to  madness 
in  his  family,  and  this  made  her  peculiarly  anxious  to  soothe 
him.  He  would  not  be  soothed  however;  in  their  last  in- 
terview he  yielded  to  a  crazy  fit  of  wrath — ke  rushed 
furiously  away  with  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  and 
three  days  afterwards  Miss  Argal  heard  with  inexpressible 
astonishment  and  horror  that  he  had  put  an  end  to  his  life. 
The  statements  of  the  paper  were  the  mere  fabrications  of 
his  rage  and  madness — the  creations  of  a  diseased  intellect, 
aiming  at  revenge.  That  is  all.  Is  not  the  explanation  per- 
fect ?" 

"  Tes,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  as  calm  and  cold  as  ice, 
"perfect.  I  have  rarely  heard  anything  so  simj)le.  And 
what  did  you  do  with  the  dead  man's  letter 

"  I  begged  it  of  Mrs.  Butterton,  she  jdelded — it  is  ashes.** 

Captain  Wagner  moved  his  head  up  and  down  with  the 
game  icy  expression  ;  set  his  teeth  firmly  together ;  and, 
gfter  a  moment's  silence,  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

^  Faloonbridge,  are  you  a  fatalist  ?'* 


OTK  ICAflTEB  OF  aREJaKYTAT  OOUBfT.  U? 


••A  Atalistf*  said  the  young  mat),  lootiDg  cnrioufelj?  at 
kifl  companion,  surely  not,  comrade.  God  rules  us  and 
directs  our  Kves — all  issues  rest  in  his  merciful  hands,  and 
we  are  told  that  not  even  a  sparrow  falls  without  the  know- 
Aege  of  the  kind  Father  of  the  Universe.  I  trust  in  aU  to 
him — as  I  pray  to  him  night  and  morning  as  my  mother 
taught  me  at  her  knee.    No,  I  am  not  a  fatalist." 

"  Well,  from  this  moment  I  am,"  said  the  soldier,  with  a 
sombre  glance  ;  "  I  don't  deny  your  religious  views-  but  J 
am  none  the  less,  from  this  day,  a  fatalist !" 

With  these  words  the  Captain  entered  the  Ordinary,  and 
Falconbridge,  with  a  serious  expression,  mounted  his  horse 
to  go  to  Mr,  Argal's. 

This  was  the  state  of  things,  in  connection  with  the  main 
personages  of  our  narrative,  at  the  moment  when  we  again 
take  up  the  thread  of  events.  From  this  time  forth,  each  day 
and  hour,  everything  ripened  and  advanced  toward  the 
catastrophe  of  the  drama. 


148 


fAIBFAX;  Oft* 


XXX. 

THE  ABREST, 

OEOSS  the  prairie,  sobbing  mournfullT  now  iis  th« 
cliiil,  autumn  wind — under  the  bare  boughs  of  th« 
forest,  studded  here  and  there  with  eTeTgreens^ 
which  only  looked  more  cheerless  from  the  sur- 
rounding desolation — through  the  sparkling  waves  of  the 
Shenandoah,  and  into  the  rugged  defile  of  the  Fort  Moun« 
tain,  George  passed  at  a  rapid  gallop,  his  eyes  full  of  gloom, 
and  his  brow  contracted. 

Lord  Fairfax  had  informed  him  that  on  this  day  "  Old 
Powell,"  as  he  was  called,  would  be  arrested  on  the  charges 
made  against  him  by  a  justice  named  Hastyluck,  and  the 
oflScials  would  probably  go  early. 

Georgia  had  received  this  information  on  the  night  before, 
witii  utter  horror  and  astonishment,  and  had  besought  Lord 
Fairfax,  if  the  charge  were  witchcraft,  to  dismiss  it  as  ab- 
surd and  ridiculous.  His  lordship  had  replied  coolly  that 
this  was  quite  out  of  his  power,  even  if  consistent  with  hiu 
convictions  ;  all  he  could  jjromise  was,  that  no  act  of  op- 
pression should  be  performed;  and  with  this  Geor^jfe  woM 
compelled  to  be  content 

He  scarcely  slept,  and  at  daybreak  was  on  his  way  to  the 
mountain. 

Never  moderating  the  speed  of  his  horse,  whose  mouth 
was  filled  with  foam,  he  rapidly  ascended  the  steep  bridle- 
path and  reached  the  door  of  the  little  mansion. 

The  scene  which  greeted  him  made  his  cheek  fluah  and 
eyes  flash  fire. 


fSB  MASTEB  Of  GMIMWAY  COUBT. 


141 


The  officers  of  the  law  had  already  arrived,  and  placed  th« 
old  man  tinder  arrest.  One  of  them  was  curiously  examin- 
ing the  strange  coin  which  George  had  seen  on  a  former  oc- 
casion, and  which  the  man  had  picked  up  from  among  some 
books  on  a  table — ^the  other  was  about  to  place  upon  the 
wrists  of  old  Powell  a  pair  of  iron  hand-cuffs,  in  spite  of  the 
tearful  and  trembling  prayers  of  little  Cannie,  who  had 
clasped  the  arm  of  his  shaggy  overcoat,  and  begged  him, 
crying,  not  to  use  them. 

George  advanced  quickly  into  the  apartment,  and  confront- 
ing the  officer,  said  sternly  : 

"  That  is  quite  unnecessary,  sir  I  Mr.  Powell  cannot  escape 
from  you  I* 

The  officer  turned  hastily,  and  said  with  an  insoleni 
Bcowl: 

"  Who  are  you,  pray  ?" 

"  My  name  is  of  no  importance,*'  George  returned,  with 
a  hauteur  in  strong  contrast  to  his  democratic  opinions;  '4t 
is  enough,  sir,  that  I  command  you  in  the  name  of  Lord 
Fairfax  to  conduct  the  prisoner  unfettered  to  Van  Doring'a 
Ordinary." 

And  putting  his  hand  into  his  breast  he  extep  led  toward 
the  person  whom  he  addressed  a  slip  of  paper,  upon  which 
was  written: 

**I  desire,  and  if  necessary  require  that  the  prisoner  Powell  may  b« 
treated  with  all  respect,  and  especially  brought  to  Court  without  band- 

«•  Fairfax. 

"GBJEEirwiT  OouBT,  ^thirao,  1748." 

George's  foresight  had  led  him  to  ask  this  favor  of  the 
Earl,  which  had  been  readily  granted — and  the  vulgar 
official  had  no  courage  to  resist.  He  scowled  at  the  young 
man,  whose  cold,  fixed  look  cowed  him  '.n  spite  of  himself, 
and  putting  the  hand-cuffs  in  his  pocket,  growled  : 

Well  it's  nothing  to  me  ;  and  you,  old  fellow,  just  oom« 


150 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


along  with  you  ?  You'll  have  a  hard  time  of  it,  cufSi  of  M 
cuflfs.'* 

*^  It'll  be  harder 'n  he  thinks,"  here  put  in  the  other  wai-^ 
thy  with  a  sneer.  "If  I  ain't  mistaken,  this  is  a  counterfeit 
— he's  a  coiner,  as  I've  heard  hinted." 

A  flash  darted  from  beneath  the  shaggy  white  brows  of  the 
old  man,  and  he  reached  forth  to  take  the  coin  from  th« 
hands  of  the  speaker.  But  the  hand  fell  at  his  side.  An 
expression  of  scorn  which  might  have  become  a  royal  prince, 
passed  over  his  features,  and  he  turned  away. 

"  Mr.  George,"  he  said,  bowing  with  courtly  gravity  to  th« 
young  man,  "I  need  not  say  that  I  thank  you  from  my  heart 
for  this  kind  and  thoughtful  action.  Of  the  result  of  this 
foolish  business  I  have  no  manner  of  fear.  I  commit  my 
child  to  you,  in  my  absence — it  is  enough,  to  so  honest  a 
gentleman." 

Then  adding  calmly  to  the  officials,  who  were  evidently 
impressed  in  spite  of  themselves,  by  the  dignity  and  coolness 
of  his  bearin.g, — *'  I  will  be  ready  in  a  few  moments  to  attend 
you," — the  old  man  entered  the  inner  apartment.  He  soon 
returned  wrapped  in  a  comfortable  overcoat,  which  reached 
beneath  the  knee,  and  issuing  forth,  mounted  the  spar« 
horse  which  had  been  brought  for  him.  How  those  intelli- 
gent gentlemen,  the  constables,  had  expected  him  to  hold 
the  bridle  with  his  hands  secured  remains  a  mystery  to  thii 
day — ^but  the  obstacle  no  longer  existed — and  with  a  tendef 
kiss  upon  Cannie's  tremulous  lips,  and  another  bow  to 
George,  the  prisoner  set  forward,  between  the  two  officers. 

We  shall  pass  over  the  scene  between  George  and  Cannic 
— such  distressing  pictures  are  not  to  our  taste.  He  con- 
soled her  with  every  possible  assurance  calculated  to 
calm  her  emotion — but  all  was  in  vain.  The  girl  begged 
him,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  nervous  sobs,  to  take  her  to 
her  grandfather,  and  it  was  one  of  the  hardest  tasks  which 
George  had  ever  imdertaken,  to  resist  these  moving  entrea- 
ties.  He  did  resi»t,  however,  by  an  immense  exertion  of  will, 


OTB  MA8TEB  OF  GREEITWAT  COUBT. 


161 


for  he  knew  that  to  yield  would  be  to  a  Id  to  the  child's  mi- 
happiness  by  showing  her  the  old  man,  formally  arraigned 
for  trial — and  all  Cannie  could  procure  from  him  was  a. 
promise  that  he  would  go  at  once  and  see  that  her  grandfa- 
ther was  not  treated  cruelly. 

"That  should  never  be  George  said,  with  that  fla&h  ol 
the  eye  which  betrayed  the  depth  of  his  character,  and 
the  strength  of  will  lying  beneath  the  calm  exterior — "  he 
would  go  at  once  !  there  was  nothing  to  fear  !" 

And  leaping  on  his  horse,  he  put  spur  to  the  animal,  and 
galloped  at  full  speed  down  the  mountain. 

Cannie  followed  him  with  her  eyes,  which  the  tears  ahnost 
blinded,  and  prayed  inaudibly  for  strength  and  protection 
from  One  in  whom  she  was  accustomed  to  place  all  her  trust. 
She  saw  George  disappear,  in  the  forest — than  reappear  in 
the  open  space,  galloping  violently  as  before:  and  finally,  on 
the  banks  of  the  river,  saw  him  join  the  oflScers  and  theii 
prisoner. 

Then  the  whole  cavalcade  disappeared,  and  Cannie  fell 
upon  the  bench  of  the  Httle  porch,  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands,  and  uttering  sobs  so  passionate  that  her  bosom, 
and  the  long,  fair  hair,  which  had  fallen,  and  now  rest45d 
upon  her  shoulders^  were  shaken,  as  by  a  convulsion. 


m 


XXXI. 

LIGHTrOOT. 

/  E  preserved  this  attitude  still,  wlieu  a  loot- 
(tep  was  heard  upon  the  path  near  at  liand,  and 
failing  her  head  she  saw  the  young  Indian,  whom 
we  have  twice  alluded  ko  in  our  chronicle. 
He  wa?  clad  as  before,  in  fringed  leggins,  joined  by  a  pli- 
able garment  of  soft  doeskin,  reaching  to  his  waist,  which  was 
encircled  by  a  leathern  belt,  upon  one  side  of  which  were 
secured  a  bundle  of  arrows: — his  feet  were  protected  by  or- 
namented moccasins,  fitting  tightly  to  the  high  instep  and 
nervous  ankle: — above  his  brow  drooped,  as  before,  the  vari « 
egated  plume,  his  badge  of  chieftainship.  As  he  leaned  upon 
his  long  cedar  bow  and  looked  upon  the  child,  his  bare 
breast  shghtly  heaving,  and  his  noble  features  full  of  tende? 
pity  and  affection,  he  presented  a  subject  for  a  great  pain- 
ter. 

Cannie  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  and  hastening  to  his  side 
said  hurriedly: 

"  Oh,  Lightfoot  I  I  thought  you  were  far  away !  I  know 
you  wiU  help  me  1  Can  you  take  me  over  the  river  ?  Grand- 
pa is  to  be  tried,  and  I  must  not,  cannot  stay  here  1 — Light* 
foot,  you  are  a  good,  true  friend." 

She  stopped,  overcome  with  agitation: — one  hand  resting 
on  his  arm,  her  eyes  turned  up  to  his  face  beseechingly. 
The  young  Indian  looked  into  the  sweet  countenance  with  a 
sudden  color  on  his  swarthy  cheek,  which  betrayed  the  ex- 
tent of  the  interest  he  felt  in  the .  speaker.  But  when  he 
spoke,  his  words  were  calm  and  measured ;  long  training 
had  made  self-control  a  second  nature  with  him*   We  shall 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAY  COTOT. 


168 


not  record  his  reply  in  the  broken  EngKsh  -which  was  all  he 
possessed — ^though  the  sad,  musical  tones  made  that  defect- 
ive dialect  not  destitute  of  a  singular  charm. 

"  Is  not  Lightfoot  the  true  friend  of  the  Mountain  Dove 
he  said.    "  He  has  known  her  very  well,  and  loved  her  for 
many  moons — and  her  father  has  been  kind  to  the  poor  In- 
dian who  left  his  tribe  to  wander  here  among  the  places  of 
his  childhood." 

"And  you  have  been  kind,  very  kind  to  us,  Lightfoot 
You  have  more  than  once  kept  the  Indians  from  attacking 
us — and  I  would  have  died  that  day  when  the  moccasin  bit 
me,  if  you  had  not  brought  the  herb  to  cure  me.  And  now, 
Lightfoot,  you  must  be  my  friend.  You  must  take  me  over 
the  river  to  Mr.  Yeardley's — I  know  he  will  let  me  go  in  his 
wagon  to  the  court.  Will  you,  Lightfoot  ? — do  not  refuse 
me,  dear  Lightfoot  I" 

The  swarthy  cheek  again  colored  sHghtly,  but  the  voic€ 
was  calm  when  he  said  : 

"  Lightfoot  loves  the  little  dove  of  the  mountain — he  will 
do  her  bidding  now  and  always — ^he  would  willingly  die  for 
her." 

And  with  these  grave  words,  which  were  accompanied  by 
a  sudden  flash  of  the  eye,  in  which  might  have  been  read  an 
expression  of  deep  tenderness,  the  young  chief  assumed  the 
attitude  of  one  who  waits  patiently. 

Cannie  hastened  into  the  house,  threw  a  cloak  upon  her 
shoulders,  tied  her  chip  hat  under  her  chin,  and  came  forth 
again  quickly.  The  two  then  rapidly  descended  the  moun- 
tain— the  Indian  often  taking  the  little  hand  to  assist  hia 
companion  over  some  obstacle  in  the  path — and  thus  they 
finally  reached  the  river.  From  a  sheltered  nook,  over- 
shadowed by  a  great  drooping  pine  tree,  Lightfoot  sUently 
produced  a  gum-log  canoe,  and  placed  the  girl  in  it.  A 
iweep  of  the  long  paddle  sent  it  ten  yards  into  the  current; 
and  they  were  soon  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  Aa 
oarefaUy  concealing  the  skiff  as  before^  the  Indian  and  hia 


154 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


companion  then  hastened  on,  and  before  very  long,  came  in 
sight  of  Mi\  Yeardley's.  Lightfoot  allowed  the  girl  to  go  on 
alone — and  from  his  hiding-place  saw  her  enter  the  rudo 
mansion  of  the  settler,  before  which  a  Kght  wagon,  drawi4 
by  a  pony,  was  standing.  In  ten  minutes  she  came  out 
again,  with  the  rough,  but  good-humored  borderer,  who 
placed  her  in  the  vehicle,  got  in  nimself,  and  drove  off. 

Lightfoot  leaned  upon  his  cedar  bow,  and  followed  the 
wagon  until  it  was  out  of  sight,  with  his  sad  smile  and  look 
of  wistful  affection.  He  wa^s  thinking  of  Cannie's  parting 
words,  as  she  pressed  his  hand  in  both  of  hers  and  said  : 

"  Come  to  our  house  to-morrow,  Lightfoot ! — you  are  my 
dear,  kind  friend!" 

The  words  had  made  his  breast  thrill,  and  a  joyful  Ughet 
illumined  his  features.  Then  the  sadness  came,  and  ha 
murmured : 

*'She  lo\es  the  pale-faced  youth.  lam  naught  to  her. 
But  Manitou  will  speak.    It  is  well." 

With  these  words  he  tm-ned  and  disappeared  In  tha 
foreoL 


na  MAfiTEB  OF  SKEENWAY  CO0BT. 


166 


xxxn. 

HOW  CAPTAIN  WAGNER  OVERTHREW  HIS  ADTEBSAEy. 

N  the  main  apartment  of  Van  Doring's  Ordinary, 
the  worshipful  justices  of  the  County  of  Fred- 
erick were  assembled,  to  take  into  consideration 
all  questions  touching  the  order,  defence,  gor- 
emment,  and  general  condition  of  the  region  under  their 
supervision. 

The  Ordinary  had  been  selected  for  the  place  of  meeting 
at  the  request  of  Lord  Fairfax.  As  one  of  the  pieces  of 
business  which  would  come  before  the  worshi]3ful  justices, 
was  the  selection  of  a  permanent  locality  for  the  court,  and 
as  Winchester  and  Stephensburg  contended  for  the  honor, 
and  emolument  in  question — said  his  lordship — ^it  would  be 
fair  to  meet  on  the  present  occasion  at  neither  of  those 
places.  Thus  they  would  enter  the  arena  of  friendly  com^ 
petition  impartially,  and  without  undue  advantage. 

These  views  had  received  the  approbation  of  the  en- 
lightened justices,  and  they  had  accordingly  assembled  from 
every  direction  at  the  Ordinary  of  Mr.  Van  Coring — ^riding 
every  description  of  animal  of  the  horse  species,  and  clad  in 
iiiie  most  extraordinary  diversity  of  apparel.  Some  of  them 
were  gentlemen  of  the  first  class,  and  these  were  well 
dressed,  with  some  pretensions  to  grace  and  elegance.  But 
the  majority  were  like  Major  Hastyluck,  rather  unfavorable 
specimens  of  their  species — low-browed,  sharp-faced,  wiry, 
keen-looking  individuals,  who  evidently  had  an  eye  to  the 
main  chance  under  all  possible  circumstances,  and,  Uke  a 
celebrated  gentleman  of  more  modem  times,  thought  it  well 
to  be  "  shifty  in  a  new  country." 

A  large  crowd  of  a  nondescript  character  had  assembled  on 


166 


7AIBFAZ;  OB, 


the  occasion — ^hunters,  trappers,  settlers — ^inany  of  ttem 
portly  Germans,  others  trim,  active  Scotchmen:— and  thia 
crowd  moved  about  in  front  of  the  Ordinary,  drank  system 
atically  of  Mynheer  Van  Boring's  Jamaica,  and  during  thi 
first  hours  of  the  day,  entered  with  enthusiasm  into  the 
business  of  trading  horses — the  animals  being,  for  the  iQOst 
part,  plain  to  the  inspection  of  all,  at  the  long  rack  in  front 
of  the  tavern  door. 

About  twelve  o'clock  a  decided  sensation  was  created  in  the 
crowd  by  tho  appearance  of  a  large  Enghsh  chariot,  drawn  by 
four  glossy  horses,  from  which  vehicle,  when  it  paused  before 
the  door,  descended  his  lordship,  the  Earl  of  Fairfax,  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  County  of  Frederick,  and  President  of  the  body 
of  justices.  Lord  Fairfax,  who  carried  into  the  wilds  of  the 
New  World  something  of  the  English  idea  of  the  propriety  of 
full  dress,  on  occasions  of  ceremony,  was  very  richly  clad.  His 
coat  was  of  brown  cloth,  decorated  with  embroidery;  hia 
waistcoat  of  yellow  silk,  ornamented  with  flowers  in  silver 
thread;  from  his  bosom  protruded  a  mass  of  snowy  ruffles,  and 
his  peruke  was  carefully  powdered.  Around  him,  as  he  issued 
from  the  chariot,  he  drew  the  folds  of  a  rich  red  velvet  cloak 
— and  then  inclining  his  head  slightly  to  the  admiring 
crowd,  he  entered  the  Ordinary.* 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  appearance  of  his  lordship, 
the  sheriff  was  heard  uttering  his  loud  brazen  "  Oyez !  oyez  1 
oyez !  Silence  is  commanded — ^humhum— humhum — hum  1 
— God  save  the  King !" — and  the  justices  took  their  seats  at 
a  long  table,  at  the  further  end  of  the  apartment,  the  Earl 
occupying  a  large  arm-chair  in  the  centre.  A  little  gentle- 
man, with  an  irresistible  business  air,  sat  at  one  corner  of 
the  board  with  a  huge  volume  bound  in  leather,  lying  before 
him — and  near  the  door,  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the 


•  The  chief  details  of  this  description  are  faithful  to  accurately  preserved  tradition, 
Hie  Tradition  was  communicated  to  the  present  writer  by  tha  aon  of  a  gentleman  whg 
flMtod  the  Earl  at  Greenway  Court— «aw  hia  handioma  ohaziot^  and  T«d  TVlinl  oIq>^. 
M  dlM4  la  atete  at  tha  hcoftd  bowd. 


1 


THE  MASTEB  OF  (JBEENWAT  COURT.  157 

members  of  the  court,  the  crowd — among  whom  might  b«  1 
Been  Falconbridge,  George,  and  Captain  Wagner,  convers* 
ing — looked  on  with  interest. 

The  clerk  read  some  previous  proceedings  in  a  monoton- 
ous voice — the  justices  consulted  in  a  low  tone  with  Lord  i 
Fairfax  ; — and  then  the  Earl  leaned  forward  and  said,  turn 
ing  his  head  first  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left  :  ] 

"  Is  the  court  prepared  to  vote  upon  the  selection  of  a  ' 
county-seat  ?  I  need  not  inform  you,  gentlemen,  that  the  \ 
question  will  chiefly  lie  between  Stephensburg  and  Winches- 
ter. I  shall,  therefore,  request  each  justice,  as  I  address  j 
him,  to  pronounce  one  or  the  other  name,  which  I  will  note  i 
down  as  it  is  uttered." 

A  considerable  sensation  among  the  crowd  greeted  these  i 

words,  and  a  hubbub  of  voices  for  a  moment  deafened  every  j 
one. 

"  Silence  in  the  court  1"  cried  the  sheriff,  with  fierce  in-  I 

dignation;  "  silence,  or  the  court-room  will  be  cleared  1'*  , 

"  No,  sir !    Winchester,  or  the  devil  take  it  I"  resounded  . 

dear  and  sonorous  in  the  sudden  silence,  and  the  sheriff  j 

started  up  with  ferocious  abruptness.  ; 

"Silence!    Captain  Wagner,  you  are  disturbing  the  ' 

court!    Silence!"  | 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  voiee  of  Captain  Wagner,  as  { 

that  worthy  advanced  from  the  mass,  with  clanking  spurs  | 

and  sabre,  "  I  have  the  utmost  possible  respect  for  this  most  j 

honorable  court,  and  the  little  remark  which  fell  from  me  j 

was  spoken  confidentially  to  a  friend,  who  is  an  advocate  of  | 

Stephensburg.    Now,  I'm  only  a  poor  soldier,  and  nothing  \ 

of  a  lawyer,  but  I  will  maintain  that  Wiachester,  and  no  ! 

other  place,  ought  to  be  selected  for  the  county-seat.    I  I 

have  my  reasons,"  added  the  Captain,  mysteriously,  "  and  if  \ 

this  most  honorable  and  r^pectable  body  would  listen  to  i 
the  said  reasons^  I  could  satisfy  their  mindsf,  or  may 

khe-  

] 
I 


158 


FAIRFAX,  OB, 


What  foDowed,  or  nearly  followed,  was  lost  in  the  Cap- 
tain's huge  beard. 

The  ghost  of  a  smile  flitted  over  the  countenance  of  Lord 
Fairfax  : — it  was  his  favorite  music,  the  sound  of  that  mar- 
tial and  sonorous  voice — and  he  recalled  all  at  once  ihfl 
*  declaration  of  war "  by  the  soldier,  on  his  arrival  in  the 
Valley.  As  to  the  Cai>tain,  he  pushed  up  his  great  black 
moustache  with  his  finger — ran  his  eyes  along  the  hne  of  jus- 
jices,  among  whom  were  Mr.  Argal,  and  Major  Hastyluck— 
and  finally  concentrated  his  gaze  upon  the  face  of  the  Eai^l, 
with  an  expression  which  said,  plainly,  "  Honor  bright,  my 
lord  r 

The  luiking  smile  came  again  to  the  Earl's  face,  and  tarn« 
ing  to  the  coiu*t,  he  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  if  it  is  your  pleasure,  we  will  listen  to  Cap- 
tain Wagner's  reasons  for  selecting  Winchester.  He  is  well 
acquainted  with  the  country,  and  its  interests,  and  if  you 
permit  him,  may  throw  light  upon  the  question." 

A  glance  of  much  admiration  fi'om  the  soldier  rewarded 
bis  generous  enemy;  and  when  the  court  acquiesced  in  the 
E'dvVii  recommendation,  the  countenance  of  the  worthy, 
whicli  before  had  been  filled  with  the  elements  of  fear,  was 
now  fringed  with  the  radiance  of  hope,  and  expanded  with 
the  delight  of  a  great  orator  who  feels  that  the  moment  haa 
arrived  for  his  triumph.  The  Captain  bowed  his  head,  then 
raised  his  martial  brow  erect — and  extending  one  arm  per- 
suasivety,  plunged  with  eloquence  into  the  middle  of  the 
subject. 

It  is  again,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  matter  of  deep  regret 
to  the  faithful  historian  of  Captain  Wagner's  exploits,  thai 
the  absence  of  professional  reporters,  at  that  remote  period, 
renders  it  impossible  to  accurately  record  the  vivid  elo* 
quence  of  his  speeches.  As  in  the  case  of  Patrick  Henry, 
and  other  celebrated  men,  the  legend  of  his  power  alone 
remaina.  We  may  safely  say,  however,  that  the  eulogium 
pxaooimced  upon  the  town  of  Winchesteij  by  the  militfti; 


THE  MASTER  01'  GREENWAT  COUBT. 


159 


orator,  was  one  of  transcendent  beantj  and  stirring  impres- 
siveness — while  Stephensburg  dwindled  away  into  a  tenth- 
rate  cross-road  assemblage  of  huts,  unworthy  of  the  atten- 
tion of  any  one  for  an  instant.  The  Captain  concluded  by 
a  pathetic  and  affecting  appeal  to  the  honorable  justices  to 
be  guided  in  their  decision  by  no  considerations  of  self 
interest,  by  no  preference  ioT  persons — to  remember  that 
^inborn  millions  would  be  affected  by  their  determination, 
and  form  their  opinion  of  the  members  of  the  court  by  the 
m^Jiner  in  which  they  discharged,  on  this  groat  occasion, 
their  solemn  and  responsible  obligations. 

With  this  eloquent  appeal  the  Captain  ended  his  oration, 
and  retired  modestly  into  the  crowd. 

The  smile  on  the  Earl's  face  had  come  back  in  full  force — 
and  tmrning  to  his  associates,  he  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  you  have  heard  the  reasons  given  by  Cap- 
tain Wagner,  but  I  imagine  you  have  discovered  in  them 
nothing  to  largely  modify  any  opinions  which  you  may  have 
t>efore  made  up.  If  the  members  of  the  court  are  ready  to 
fote,  I  will  submit  the  question.'* 

As  no  objection  was  made,  the  Earl  called  in  turn  the 
name  of  each — mailing  a  mark  as  they  responded,  either 
under  "Winchester,"  or  "Stephensburg,"  which  were  writ 
ten  upon  a  sheet  of  paper.  The  result  was  that  the  first 
had  five  marks,  the  latter  but  four — and  Winchester  was 
oelected  as  the  county-seat  of  Frederick  by  a  majority  of 
one. 

As  he  inscribed  the  last  vote — that  of  the  worthy  Major 
Hastyluck — a  slight  flush  invaded  the  swarthy  cheek  of  the 
Earl,  aiid  he  leaned  back  haughtily  in  his  arm-chair.  The 
result  seemed  to  cause  hhn  no  less  surprise  than  dissatis- 
tion;  and  for  a  moment  ho  remained  silent,  looking  coldly 
at  the  court.  Then  v/ith  an  irritated  flirt  of  the  hand  he 
tossed  down  the  paper,  saying,  simply  : 

"Winchester  is  ciicik^en/' 

The  Earl's  dijipkasure  did  not  ImL,  iiowever*  It  pkin^jf 


160 


VAIBFAX;  OB, 


gubsided  after  the  transaction  of  some  additional  Dnsineoi 

of  a  common-place  nature;  and  when  a  short  period  for  rest 
was  taken  by  the  court,  who  went  to  supply  themselves  with 
cups  of  Jamaica,  Lord  Fairfax  approached  Captain  Wagner 
and  said,  calmly  : 

"  WeU,  you  are  yictor,  sir — I  congratulate  you  upon  yoiuf 
triumph !" 

"My  lord,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  making  the  military 
salute,  "there  is  something  finer  than  to  get  the  better  of 
an  adversary — ^it  is  to  act  toward  that  adversary  with  the 
chivalry  and  fairness  that  your  lordship  has  displayed  on 
this  occasion/' 

It  was  the  Captain's  honest  opinion,  and  the  ill-humor  of 
the  gratified  Earl  completely  disappeared. 


TBI  JOSTm  Of  aEKEKWAI  OOWT. 


xxxm. 

THE  WIZAIID  OP  THE  MASSINUTTON. 

T  was  not  until  late  in  the  evening  that  the  case 
of  tlie  singular  inhabitant  of  the  Fort  Mountain 
came  up  for  examination. 
He  was  brought  from  the  private  apartment  in 
which  he  had  been  confined,  into  the  main  room  in  which 
the  array  of  justices  were  seated  behind  the  long  table,  and 
directed  to  sit  down  until  he  was  called — "when,"  added 
the  individual  who  had  arrested  him,  "you'll  have  a  chance, 
my  proud-looking  old  fellow,  to  say  if  you  are  guilty,  or  not 
guilty,  and  I've  got  my  opinion  as  to  how  it'll  turn  out." 

With  these  comforting  words  the  vulgar  officer  retired, 
and  left  his  prisoner  to  himself.  That  personage  seemed  to 
pay  no  manner  of  attention  to  him  who  thus  addressed  him. 
Had  no  one  been  beside  him — no  voice  sounded  in  his  ears 
— ^he  could  not  have  exhibited  a  more  perfect  unconscious- 
ness of  being  spoken  to.  He  was  looking  with  a  gloomy 
and  fixed  glance  at  Lord  Fairfax,  who  occupied  his  former 
position  in  the  middle  of  the  line  of  justices  :  and  thus,  mo 
tionless,  stern,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  his  old  gray 
over-coat,  shaggy  and  soiled  with  long  use,  he  presented  a 
singular  spectacle.  His  long  gray  hair  half  covered  his  face, 
which  inclined  forward,  and  the  keen  eyes,  burning  beneath 
the  bushy  wnite  eyebrows,  were  never  removed  for  a  mo- 
Anent  from  the  face  of  the  Earl. 

The  rude  crowd  swaying  to  and  fro  at  the  door,  regarded 
the  prisoner  with  superstitious  interest;  and  as  the  shades 
of  evening  began  to  descend,  and  his  figure  grow  gradually 
less  distinct  in  its  outlines^  they  watched  him  with  as  maob 


WAIBMAX  ;  OR, 


mtensity  as  if  they  liad  expected  him  ere  long  t©  melt  into 
tliin  air,  and  disappear,  with  a  disagreeable  smeJl  of  sulphm 
only  left  behind. 

The  remote  and  retired  life  of  the  old  man,  his  system- 
atic non-attendance  upon  any  occasions  of  public  assembage 
in  the  small  towns,  or  at  social  gatherings — the  mysterious 
manner  in  which  ho  had  arrived  a  year  or  twc  before,  no 
one  knew  wlience — and  above  all,  the  dense  smolie  which 
was  fi'equently  seen,  even  in  the  hottest  days  of  summer, 
curUng  above  the  summit  just  beneath  which  his  cottage 
was  situated — all  these  things  had  strangely  impressed  the 
rude  and  credulous  inhabitants  of  the  frontier,  and  led  them 
to  bestow  upon  him  the  name  by  w^hich  he  was  known 
throughout  the  region — "The  Wizard  of  the  Massinut* 
ton," 

What  had  induced  the  drunken  justice,  Hastyluck,  to  set 
on  foot  a  prosecution  against  him  for  diabohcal  proceedings, 
it  was  difficult  to  say.  It  may  have  been  some  private  spite 
— or  the  attempt  of  a  sottish  hanger-on  to  bolster  up  a 
damaged  reputation  by  an  affectation  of  zeal  in  his  office  of 
justice — or  lastly,  the  mere  enmity  of  a  small,  ill-natured 
mind  against  one  apparently  without  friends. 

Kowever  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  Hastyluck  set  the 
matter  on  foot;  and  in  his  vagabond  wanderings  among  the 
rude  and  ignorant  settlers — especially  those  from  the  witch- 
haunted  land  of  Germany — he  had  experienced  Uttle  diffi- 
culty in  impressing  upon  their  minds  the  idea  that  every 
misfortune  which  had  ever  happened  to  them  had  been 
caused  by  the  "  Wizard  of  the  Massinutton."  More  than  one 
of  these  superstitious  people  were  now  present,  prepared  to 
testify  with  the  utmost  distinctness  against  the  prisoner — 
and  Major  Hastyluck,  who  had  spent  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  day  in  swilling  Jamaica  in  Mynheer  Van  J)oj> 
ing's  inner  room,  now  rubbed  his  hands  and  regarded  tUe 
Htpo  wizards  seated  before  him  with  maudlin  triumph. 


TSB  MASTEB  OF  OBEEirWAT  OOUBT. 


163 


The  piifloner,  Fowell,''  said  Major  Hastylnck^  in  a  tldci 
and  Btammering  voice,  "will  now  be  aiTaigued. 

Lord  Fairfax,  whose  place  bad  tlius  been  unceremoniously 
Assumed  by  the  drunken  Major,  turned  with,  a  fro\Yiito  that 
gentleman,  and  said  with  some  hautem*: 

"  I  pray  you,  sir,  permit  the  business  of  the  court  to  pro- 
ceed regularly.* 

To  which  cold  worde  Major  Hastyliick,  who  was  quite 
beyond  the  influence  of  hauteur,  responded  with  the  re- 
markable words,  uttered  with  shocking  indistinctness- 

'^Hans  Doppelkraut  'U  teU  you  !" 

After  which  the  Major  assumed  an  expression  of  much 
dignity,  and  attempted  to  pare  his  nails  with  a  goosequilL 

The  Earl  bestowed  a  withering  glance  upon  Lis  associate, 
which,  however,  fell  powerless,  and  making  a  sign  to  the 
sherilGf,  that  excitable  gentleman  summoned  the  prisoner  to 
stand  and  say  whether  or  not  he  was  guilty  of  witchcraft. 
The  prisoner,  thereupon,  rose  and  said,  ''I  am  not  guilty,*' 
in  a  calm  and  indifferent  voice.  Then  taking  his  seat,  he 
fixed  his  eyes  as  before  upon  Lord  Fairfax. 

Carl  Zellycreffer  being  called,  testified  in  broad  German, 
that  his  child  had  been  afflicted  with  internal  dropsy  and 
rickets,  which  he  believed  to  have  been  caused  by  the  wiz- 
ard. Being  interrogated  as  to  the  foundation  for  this  opin- 
ion, his  reply  was  unsatisfactory. 

Hans  Doppelkraut  succeeded  this  worthy.  Hans  testified 
that  he  believed  his  cattle  to  have  been  destroyed  by  the 
wizard's  shooting  them  with  hair  balls,  as  no  marks  of  dis- 
ease, or  violence  were  discovered  upon  them  : — his  neighbor, 
Flangel,  who  was  too  sick  to  attend,  was  certain  that  his  ill- 
ness was  caused  by  the  wizard's  changing  hkn  iato  a  horse, 
bridling  and  saddling  lihn,  and  riding  him  at  full  speed  07er 
the  very  top  of  the  Foi^  fountain,  to  a  meeting  of  witches 
and  wizards  in  the  "  Hog  Back."  He,  the  witness,  did  no* 
know  how  this  was — ^but  he  could  say,  that  in  his  opinion 
his  own  oowB  had  been  made  dry  by  the  priBoner,  by  fixijog 


a  pin  in  ^  towel  for  each  cow— hanging  the  towel  Otef  ft 
door,  and  drawing  the  milk  from  the  friages.  The  officer 
had  told  him  they  had  seen  a  towel  at  the  prisoner's  house  : 
— and  that  the  "Hog  Back  "  was  the  most  probable  place 
for  a  meeting,  such  as  neighbor  Flangel  had  declared  he  waa 
ridden  to,  saddled  and  bridled,  with  heavy  spurs  dug  every 
instant  into  his  sides — ^wMch  marks,  by  some  vdtchcraft  at 
the  prisoner,  were,  however^  not  visible  when  he  returned  to 
his  himian  shape. 

Having  given  this  perspicuous  testimony,  Hans  Doppel^ 
kraut  stood  aside,  and  Joe  Gunn,  hunter  and  trapper,  was 
called. 

Joe  Gunn,  for  his  part,  didn't  know  whether  there  was 
any  sech  thing  as  witchcraft  or  not,  and  only  hearn  about  it. 
He  had  been  acquainted  with  hunters  who  said  their  guna 
were  bewitched  and  wouldn't  shoot  straight — and  when 
Black,  one  of  his  hounds,  couldn't  be  got  to  hunt  of  late,  he 
had  burnt  him  in  the  forehead  with  a  hot  iron — after  which  he 
didn't  know  whether  he  hunted  or  not,  for,  like  an  ongrate- 
ful  varmaint,  he  run  away.  Major  Hastyluck  there  had  told 
him,  Joe  Gunn,  "strange  things  was  in  the  wind  now- 
abouts  " — and  asked  him  if  he  was  well;  when  he,  Joe  Gunn, 
told  the  Major  that  he  did  have  a  little  tetch  of  the  rhuma- 
tiz  from  sleeping  out  o'-nights  on  the  ground,  the  Major  had 
asked  him  solemnly  if  he  was  sure  that  this  was  not  caused 
by  Powell.  He,  Joe  Gunn,  replying  that  in  this  miserable 
world  there  was  nothing  whatsoever  that  was  nat  rally  sar 
tin  but  unsartinty,  the  Major  had  advised  him  to  draw  a  pio* 
ture  of  the  wizard  on  a  plank,  and  shoot  at  it  with  a  bullet 
containing  a  bit  of  silver.  His  old  woman  wouldn't  hear  ol 
any  such  waste  of  precious  metals,  and  he  fired  away  at  the 
picture,  drawn  on  the  fence  in  charcoal,  with  an  ordinary  bul* 
lei  Tlie  Major  told  him  the  bullet  would  hit  the  old  wizard 
all  the  same  as  if  he  was  really  there — and  so,  not  wanting 
to  kill  anybody,  and  knowing  Long  July  Ann,  his  rifle,  sent 
the  ball  right  where  he  put  the  bead,  he  aimed  at  tha  ri^ht 


TOE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  COUBT.  165 


Bhonlder,  and  put  it  there.  If  the  talk  about  wizards  "wafl 
true,  the  prisoner  ought  to  have  an  ounce  of  lead  in  his  right 
shoulder — which  he,  Joe  Gunn,  wouldn't  like  to  have  in  hia 
own — and  that  was  all  he  knew  about  it.* 

A  singular  expression  of  surprise  passed  over  the  face  of 
the  prisoner,  who  nevertheless  did  not  move. 

"  Search  him,  search  him,  according  to  the  law  of  witch- 
craft!" came  with  maudlin  energy  from  the  drunken  Major 
on  the  bench: — and  many  of  the  justices  evidently  acqui- 
esced in  the  propriety  of  this  ]_  roceeding.  But  before  the  of* 
ficious  worthies  of  the  law  could  approach,  the  prisoner 
rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  and  opened  his  lips  to  address  the 
court. 


*  **The  belief  in  writchcraft  was  prevalent  among  the  early  settlers  of  the  Western 
country.  To  the  witch  was  ascribed  the  tremendous  power  of  inflicting  steange  and  in 
curable  diseases,  particularly  on  children — of  destroying  cattle  by  shooting  them  with 
hair  balls,  and  a  great  variety  of  other  means  of  destruction — of  inflicting  spells  and 
curses  on  guns  and  other  things — and  lastly,  of  changing  men  into  horses,  and  after 
bridling  and  saddling  them,  riding  them  at  fiiU  speed  over  hill  and  dale  to  their  frol- 
Icke  and  other  rendezvous.   .   ,   .   Wizards  were  men  supposed  to  possess  the  same 

mischievous  power  as  the  witches  The  diseases  of  children,  supposed  to 

be  inflicted  by  witchcraft,  were  those  of  the  internal  dropsy  and  the  rickets.  The 
symptoms  and  cure  of  these  destructive  diseases  were  utterly  unknown  in  former  times 
In  the  country.  Diseases  which  could  neither  be  accounted  for  nor  cured,  were  usu- 
ally ascribed  to  some  supernatural  agency  of  a  malignant  kind.  For  the  cure  of  the 
diseases  inflicted  by  witchcraft,  the  picture  of  the  supposed  witch  was  drawn  on  a 
Btump,  or  piece  of  board,  and  shot  at  with  a  bullet  containing  a  little  bit  of  silver. 
This  biillet  transferred  a  painful  and  sometimes  a  mortal  speU  on  that  part  of  the 

witch  corresponding  with  the  part  of  the  portrait  struct  by  the  bullet  The 

witch  had  but  one  way  of  reheving  herself  from  any  spell  inflicted  upon  her  in  any  way 
which  was  that  of  borrowing  something,  no  matter  what,  of  the  family  to  which  the 
Bubject  of  the  exercise  of  her  witchcraft  belonged !  I  have  known  several  poor 
old  women  much  surprised  at  being  refused  requests  which  had  usually  beep 
granted  without  hesitation,  and  almost  heai't-broken  when  informed  of  the  cause  cf 
the  refusal.  When  cattle  or  dogs  wore  supposed  to  be  under  the  influence  of  witchcraft, 
they  were  burnt  in  the  forehead  by  a  branding-iron,  or  when  dead,  buined  wholly  to 
ashes.  This  inflicted  a  speU  upon  the  witch,  which  could  only  by  removed  by  borrowing 
as  above  stated.  Witches  wei^e  often  said  to  mL\  the  oows  of  their  neighbors.  This  they 
did  by  fixing  a  new  pin  in  a  new  towel  for  each  cow  intended  to  be  milked.  Hiis  towel 
was  hung  over  her  own  door,  and  by  means  of  certain  incantitions,  the  milk  was  ex- 
tracted from  the  fringes  of  the  towel  after  the  manner  of  milking  a  cow.  This  hap- 
pened," adds  the  reverend  historian  with  dry  humor,  "when  the  cows  were  toe  jwi 
k)  glYf  much  milk."— DoddrKl^g'*  Notes  :  pp.  876-7,  in  XervTievaTs  ffistcry  q^"  tfv 

rtUUy  or  VirgiHia, 


168 


VAIHFAX;  OS, 


At  the  same  moment  a  stir  was  heard  at  the  door,  scmic 
pitying  exclamations  were  uttered  by  the  crowd,  and  thiongh 
an  opening  which  was  speedily  made  for  her,  Cannie  ad- 
vanced into  the  coui't  room.  The  wagon  of  good  Mr.  Yeardly 
had  broken  down,  and  she  had  just  arrived  at  the  Ordinary 
—trembling,  pale,  shaking  with  an  indefinable  fear. 

The  sight  of  the  old  i.^an,  however,  seemed  to  give  her 
strength.  The  power  of  a  resolute  wiQ,  and  a  devotion 
which  spurned  all  fear,  came  to  her  assistance — without 
shedding  a  tear,  or  hesitating  a  moment,  the  young  girl, 
with  the  air  of  a  little  queen,  went  to  the  side  of  the  prison- 
er, and  throwing  one  arm  ar'>^ir}d  him,  nestled  *dose  to  hia 
bosom. 

But  the  trial  was  too  mueii  ki>r  ber— the  agitation  she  had 
undergone  too  excessive — the  proud  and  defiant  look  which 
she  directed  at  Lord  Fairfax  an<  i  the  justices,  was  succeeded 
by  a  nervous  tremor,  and  burying  her  face  in  the  old  man's 
breast,  she  clung  to  him,  and  sobbed  wildly: 

Grand  papa !  grand  papa  !  they  shall  not  take  you  from 
me !  They  shall  not ! — ^no  they  shall  not,  while  I  am 
alive  I" 

A  flood  of  tears  foUowea  these  words,  and  for  an  instant 
a  dead  silence  reigned  throughout  the  apartment.  AU  eyea 
were  fixed  upon  the  tall  gray-haired  man,  clasped  in  the 
embrace  of  the  beautiful  and  devoted  child — and  as  they 
stood  thus,  bathed  iu  the  red  b'ght  of  the  declining  sun,  there 
was  something  so  proud  and  noble  in  the  forms  of  both,  that 
She  crowd  was  hushed  and  awed. 

The  sUence  was  broken  by  the  prisoner. 

*^My  liord,"  he  said,  calmly,  in  his  cold,  austere  voice, 
''my  Lord  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Court,  I  beg  you  to  take 
notice  that  this  presence  of  my  child  was  against  my  vnshes 
— would  scorn  to  make  use  of  any  such  vulgar  trick  to  ex- 
cite your  sympathies.  This  absurd  accusation  of  witchcr^ift 
tias  been  heard — the  witnesses  have  testified — I  might  go  to 
my  hoxxm  aga^n^  cleared  of  the  foolish  imputation — but  tbeipe 


THIB  MASTER  OF  GEEENWAY  OOUKT. 


167 


is  still  another  charge  to  be  brought  against  me,  I  believe 
Before  that  charge  is  made,  I  (jrave  a  few  moments'  private 
conversation  with  the  presiding  justice  of  the  court— my 
lord  Fairfax.  In  making  this  request,  I  am  not  impelled 
by  any  fear  of  the  result,  or  any  wish  to  conciliate  your 
lordship's  favor.  My  child  is  agitated — would  be  home 
again — I  have  other  reasons,  my  Lord  Thomas  of  Denton 
— Fairfax,  I  should  say.  I  pray  that  I  may  speak  with  your 
lordship." 

At  the  words  "  Lord  Thomas  of  Denton,"  the  Earl  gave  a 
visible  start  and  leaned  forward  in  his  chair,  vainly  endeav- 
ouring to  read  some  secret  in  the  countenance  of  the  prison- 
er. But  that  countenance  defied  all  his  penetration — it  was 
cold  and  impenetrable — a  mask  might  have  conveyed  mora 
expression. 

Lord  Fairfax  drew  back  with  a  deep  sigh  and  a  bewildered 
look,  which  was  extremely  unusual  with  him — ^but  said 
nothing.  Then  seeming  suddenly  to  recollect  the  request 
of  the  prisoner,  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  said  hurriedly : 

"  I  pray  the  court  to  suspend  its  business  for  a  brief  peri- 
od. I  am  willing  to  grant  the  private  interview  which  the 
prisoner  craves.  I  know  not  the  character  of  the  communi- 
cation which  he  is  about  to  make  to  me,  if  it  be  a  communi- 
cation— but  trust  I  may  rely  upon  the  good  opinion  of  my 
honorable  associates,  that  nothing  will  be  taken  into  consid- 
eration by  me  without  their  privity  and  advice." 

Major  Hastyluck,  who  had  been  for  at  least  an  hour  with 
out  a  fresh  potation,  cheerfully  replied  for  his  brethren,  that 
they  had  perfect  confidence  in  his  lordship — and  then  the 
Major  showed  the  example  by  staggering  pompously  from 
his  seat  toward  the  inner  room. 

Lord  Fairfax,  still  absent  and  looking  with  vague  curiosi- 
ifj  toward  the  prisoner,  made  a  sign  to  tJiat  personage,  and 
passed  up  the  staircase  to  his  private  room. 

The  old  man,  with  soothing  words  and  a  smiling  caress, 
entrusted  Oannie  into  the  hands  of  George,  who  hastened 


108 


fUBFAX;  OB, 


fcxrward  to  olTer  her  hi»  arm,  and  then  wrapping  his  shaggy 
OTer-coat  more  closely  around  him,  stalked  tlirough  the 
group  of  insolent  and  astounded  bailiffs  after  the  Earl. 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  was  locked  behind  them,  ftZkl 
ihej  were  alone  together. 


TBM  MASTKB  OF  ansmwxj  ooxm  109 


XXXIV. 

THB  PBISOlffKB  AND  THE  JT7DGB. 

HE  two  men  looked  at  each  other  for  some  mo- 
ments in  silence.  There  was  something  striking 
and  impressive  in  this  silent  examination  by  each 
of  his  adversary  ;  and  points  of  great  similarity 
were  not  wanting,  at  least  in  the  carriage  of  their  persons. 
Neither  of  them  had  anything  in  common  with  the  hum- 
bler class  of  human  beings.  Both  men,  in  their  attitudes, 
bearing,  and  poise  of  head  and  feet,  were  plainly  of  that 
rank  accustomed  to  command  and  not  to  be  commanded, — 
to  question  but  not  to  be  questioned.  An  indifferent  spec- 
tator would  have  said,  however,  that  the  mysterious  "  wiz- 
ard "  was  the  superior,  and  the  stronger  of  the  two.  There 
was  something  superb  and  haughty  in  the  figure  no  longer 
bent,  but  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  in  the  eye  flashing  clearly 
beneath  the  shaggy  white  eye-brow,  in  the  proudly  com- 
pressed Hp,  the  forehead  raised  calmly  aloft.  Lord  Fairfax 
had  the  air  of  a  nobleman,  but  the  stranger  that  of  a  mon- 
arch. 

"  "Well,  sir,"  said  the  Earl,  betraying  unmistakable  aston- 
ishment, for  no  man  had  a  quicker  eye  for  the  indefinable 
evidences  of  superior  character.  "  Well,  sir,  now  for  your 
private  communication.  You  have  made  a  somewhat  sin- 
gulai'  request,  and  used  a  mode  of  address  which  indicates 
former  acquaintance.  Where  and  how  did  you  learn  that 
*  Lord  Thomas  of  Denton '  was  my  name  upon  my  patrimon- 
ial estate,  and  there  alone?  Speak,  sir  I — let  us  end  this 
mystery.    I  listen  I" 

8 


170 


TklRTAX,  -^K, 


And  sitting  down,  his  lordskip  motioned  with  eoxA  cocr- 
teBy  toward  a  chair  opposite  to  his  cwn. 

His  companion  did  not  take  the  offered  soat,  ^nt  saidi 
oooUy: 

"Then  you  do  not  recognize  me,  my  lord?" 

**No,  sir;  I  find,  it  is  true,  something  strangly  familiar  rn 
your  features,  but "  

"  Possibly  I  may  assist  your  recollection,"  interrupted  the 
other;  and  throwing  off  his  long  overcoat,  he  stood  before 
Lord  Fairfax  metamorphosed  fit^om  a  rude  backwoodsman 
into  an  English  gentleman  clad  in  the  most  courtly  and  im» 
posing  costume.  His  coat  was  richly  embroidered  in  scar 
let — his  frill  snow-white, — ^his  waistcoat  of  blue  silk,  loaded 
with  decorations,  and  falling  over  knee-breeches  of  the  finest 
material 

"  Have  you  forgotten  me  ?"  he  said  coldly,  as  he  saw  the 
Earl  give  a  great  start  and  suddenly  turn  pale. 

Lord  Fairfax  almost  recoiled,  as  the  stranger  advanced 
toward  him,  but  by  a  powegrful  effort  summoned  his  strength 
again,  and  replied: 

"I  have  net,  sir.    You  are  Sir  William  Powys!" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  returned  the  wizard  with  a  frown,  "  I 
am  Sir  William  Powys !  Sir  William  Powys  whom  your 
lordship's  father  stripped  of  nearly  all  his  possessions  in 
Yorkshire — who  swore  enmity  thirty  years  ago  against  your 
family — whose  body  bears  the  scar  of  a  pistol  baU  lodged 
therein  by  your  lordship,  in  the  right  shoulder  here,  as  that 
hunter  by  a  strange  coincidence,  declared — who  Las  left  the 
Old  World,  as  your  lordship  has  left  it,  to  come  to  the  New, 
and  who  here,  as  there,  finds  one  of  the  house  of  Fairfax 
eternally  in  his  path,  set  in  judgment  over  him,  to  oppose 
him,  and  strive  to  direct  him,  in  all  his  acts  ;  to  endeavor — 
vainly!  vainly  my  lord! — ^to  thwart  and  to  crush  himl 
Not  content  with  alienating  from  me  the  heart  of  my  daugh- 
ter, and  marrying  her  against  my  wishes  ! — not  content  with 
shipwrecking  my  happiness  and  hope  in  the  Old  World,  your 


THE  MASTER  OP  GREElTWAr  OOCET, 


171 


lordship  has  followed  me  hither ! — you  assemble  a  body  ol 
low  yeomen  to  try  an  English  gentleman  for  wi/^hcfaft! 
Had  I  not  requested  this  interview,  the  \  iilgar  fellow  who 
arrested  me  yonder  would  have  preferred  in  addition  a  charge 
of  counterfeiting  coin! — against  me.  me,  my  lord  !  me!" 

And  the  old  man,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  forehead,  looked 
down  upon  the  Earl  with  a  fiery  wrath  which  made  his 
countenance  almost  terrible  in  its  indignation. 

Lord  Fairfax  did  not  immediately  reply.  He  seemed  en- 
deavoring to  control  a  sentiment  as  violent  as  that  of  his 
companion.  His  compressed  lips  and  heaving  bosom  indi- 
cated the  struggle  which  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  ho 
was  silent  for  some  moments.  The  effort  at  self-control  vv^ag 
Buccessful.  His  features  slowly  grew  calm.  The  flush  dia- 
appeared  from  his  face,  and  returning  the  other's  gaze  with 
cold  solemnity  he  said: 

"  Sir  William  Powys,  what  you  have  just  uttered  is  an  in  • 
justice  unworthy  of  your  character,  and  unlike  your  blood, 
which,  in  all  its  representives  with  whom  I  am  acquainted, 
has  been  violent  and  implacable,  but  neither  unfair  nor  un- 
generous. You  know  well  that  I  have  had  no  part  in  origi- 
nating this  silly  prosecution  of  you  for  witcluraft.  You 
know  that  I  am  simply  among  these  people,  not  of  them, — as 
the  Lieutenant  of  the  county,  as  an  o^cial  bound  to  act 
oiBScially.  So  much  for  that.  And  touching  the  subject  of 
counterfeiting,  it  was  mentioned  in  my  hearing  but  an  hour 
ago.  These  are  the  wrongs  which  I  have  inflicted  upon  you 
as  you  declare,  in  the  New  World  V 

The  Earl  paused  a  moment,  then  continued  gloomily 

"  Of  events  in  England  I  would  rather  not  speak:  except  to 
say  that  you  have  heard  of  the  usual  injustice.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  my  father  was  narsu  uoward  you — but  let  that 
pac3s.  In  SL  single  accusation,  you  are  just.  I  did  force  a 
quarrel  with  you  and  wound  you, — I  regretted  it.  I  still  re- 
gret it;  it  was  unnecessary.  But  touching  the  last  charge, - 
here.  Sir  WiUi&oi  Powys,  I  have  nothing  to  blame  mjseli 


172 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


with.    I  honestly  loved  your  daughter — she  honestly  lored 

me;  in  spite  of  your  hatred  for  my  family,  she  became  my 
Countess — ^if  against  your  wish,  as  you  say,  still  not  without 
your  legal  consent.  But  enough,  sir.  These  memories  move 
me  bitterly.  Let  the  past  sleep.  I  do  not  speak  angrily  as 
you  see,  Sir  William;  I  address  you  as  your  rank  and  position 
demand.    I  have  done,  sir." 

There  was  so  much  nobiUty  and  sincerity  in  the  tone  of 
the  Earl,  that  his  words  evidently  affected  the  listener 
strangely.  The  menacing  expression  disappeared,  and  a 
gloomy  calm  succeeded. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  "I  so  far  acquit  you  of  this  present 
annoyance  as  to  fully  believe  that  you  had  no  part  in  it.  The 
pain  it  has  occasioned  both  me  and  my  child,  no  less  re- 
main. There  is,  besides,  no  certainty  that  in  future  it  will 
not  be  repeated — and  thus  I  have  reason  when  I  say  that 
the  name  of  Fairfax  is  my  evil  genius,  for  you  are  the  real 
master  and  controlling  influence  in  the  country.  But  I  pass 
that  by.  You  have  said  that  my  family  is  implacable.  That 
is  only  partly  true  of  myself ;  but  I  shall  not  discuss  the 
question.  I  shall  simply  say  that  toward  yourself  personal- 
ly I  have  no  ill  feeling  ;  indeed  I  am  conscious  of  having 
more  than  repaired  aU  your  injuries,  as  some  day  you  will 
know." 

Lord  Fairfax  made  a  motion  with  his  hand  and  said  with 
noble  simplicity: 

"I  would  rather  have  it  so  than  otherwise,  sir." 

The  words  seemed  to  dissipate  still,  further  the  enmity  of 
his  companion.  He  sat  doAvn,  and  when  he  spoke  again, 
his  voice  was  greatly  changed.    It  was  almost  sad. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  strange  and  sorrowful 
world — ^have  you  not  found  it  so  ?" 

"  Eminently,"  replied  the  Earl,  sadly. 

"I  am  more  than  seventy  years  old;  you  must  be  nearly 
or  quite  fifty.  Well,  at  our  respective  ages,  men  should 
strive  to  forget  the  passions  of  their  youth — ^the  enmiti^ 


THE  ICASTER  OP  GBEENWAT  OOTTHT.  178 

and  hatreds  which  sear  the  soul.  Ton  have  wronged  me — I 
have  wronged  you.  There  let  it  rest.  I  am  willing  to  forget 
all,  and  to  go  upon  my  way  without  cherishing  any  thoughts 
of  vengeance  in  my  heart.  I  will  do  more:  I  will  right  the 
wrong  I  have  done  you  — ^here  the  brows  of  the  speaker 
contracted  painfully — "but  not  now.  Let  us  come  to  the 
business  which  made  me  request  this  interview." 

The  Earl  inchned  his  head  with  great  courtesy,  and  lis- 
tened. 

"Nearly  two  years  ago,"  said  his* companion,  "I  bought 
of  your  agent  here — I  never  expected  to  see  you  in  Virginia 
— ^the  tract  of  land  upon  which  I  live  with  my  granddaugh- 
ter. I  removed  from  my  small  estate  on  the  seaboard,  be- 
cause the  chills  and  fevers  of  that  region,  for  a  portion  of 
the  year,  render  it  dangerous  to  her  constitution;  and  again 
because  she  derives  singular  benefit  from  a  mineral  spring 
in  the  '  fort '  yonder.  I  brought  with  me  only  a  man  and  a 
maid,  intending  to  return  in  the  cold  season,  but  have  re- 
mained. One  of  the  reasons  for  this  decision,  in  addition  to 
the  health  of  my  granddaughter,  was  the  discovery  of  a 
mine  of  gold  and  silver,  upon  the  tract,  which  I  have  worked 
with  the  utmost  success." 

The  Earl  bowed  with  the  same  calm  courtesy,  and  the 
speaker  continued  : 

"  I  know  that  by  the  charter  granted  to  Lord  Culpeper, 
from  whom  you  derive  your  property  in  this  province,  you 
are  entitled  to  one-fourth  of  the  proceeds  of  all  mines  of  gold 
and  silver  discovered  upon  all  lands  within  Lord  Culj^eper's 
grant,  and  I  have  accordingly  laid  aside  carefully  one  ingot 
from  every  four,  in  a  box  marked  "  Lord  Fairfax."  In  rela- 
tion to  the  coin  discovered  by  the  bailiff,  in  one  sense  it  in 
counterfeit.  I  cast  it  from  pure  gold  in  a  mould  of  clay,  aa 
the  amusement  of  an  idle  moment;  and  inasmuch  as  ita 
value,  from  the  absence  of  all  alloy,  is  one-fourth  more  than 
that  of  real  coin,  I  imagine  my  moral  innocence  of  the 
•barge  of  ooimng  may  be  estabUshed.    I  have  made  thifi 


m 


FAIBFAX;  OB^ 


explanation,**  continued  the  speaker,  "in  order  tc  propcimil 
to  you  an  interrogatory.  I  do  so  that  there  may  be  no  mia- 
miderstanding,  no  ambiguity.  Shall  I  be  permitted  to 
remain  in  this  region  undisturbed  by  legal  annoyances,  or 
must  I  go  with  my  child  to  another  ?  The  heart  beats  chill 
at  seventy,  my  lord,  and  a  man  is  disposed  to  quiet.  1 
would  ask  no  favor;  I  would  have  you  reply  as  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  business;  I  address  myself  to  you  as  Lord  Proprietor 
of  the  Northern  Neck  in  which  I  Uve,  and  chief  executive 
officer  of  the  country." 

"As  such  I  reply,  Sir  William,"  said  the  Earl,  calmly, 
"  that  your  further  sojourn  in  the  region  shall  be,  as  far  as 
lies  in  my  power,  wholly  freed  from  all  annoyance.  If  I 
were  not  disposed  to  make  you  this  assurance,  with  refer- 
ence to  yourseK,  I  should  do  so  for  your  granddaughter's 
sake.  I  cannot  forget  that  she  would  have  been  the  cousin 
of  my  children.  No  more  of  that.  In  regard  to  the  fourth 
part  of  all  gold  mines,  I  do  not  claim  that  right  in  my  char- 
ter— or,  if  you  insist,  I  reply  that  I  wish  the  child  to  receive 
the  sum  which  you  have  laid  aside — as  a  present  from  her 
uncle  by  marriage.  I  pray  you,  sir,  not  to  refuse  me  this 
trifle.  I  shall  not  stop  here,  with  your  permission,  in  my 
privilege  of  displaying  my  affection  for  my  little  niece.  I 
am  truly  proud  to  think  of  her  as  such  ;  a  more  perfect 
young  princess  I  have  never  seen  than  the  child,  as  she 
came  to  you  in  the  court-room.  But  enough,  sir.  I  shall 
-  not  let  you  offer  me  this  gold  again,  as  I  think  you  intend ; 
let  us  return  and  terminate  this  business.  All  shall  end  at 
once." 

And  opening  the  door,  the  Earl  made  a  courteous  gesture 
to  the  old  man,  who  had  again  donned  his  long  coat,  to 
precede  him,  which  resulted  in  their  issuing  forth  together. 
In  the  two  hearts  thus  close  to  each  other,  there  was  no 
longer  any  enmity;  but  in  the  elder's  there  was  rain,  and  a 
cruel  hesitation. 

They  entered  the  room  where  the  members  of  the  court 


THB  XABTSR  OF  GKBENWAY  COXTBT. 


178 


wear©  seated,  and  in  ten  minutes  Lord  Faii-fax  had  impressed 
apon  his  associates,  in  private  conference,  the  entire  ab- 
Burdity  of  all  charges  brought  against  the  prisoner.  Indeed 
the  honorable  justices  were  rather  ashai^ed  of  themselves; 
and  many  looks  of  disgust  were  directed  toward  the  person 
of  Major  Hastyluck,  chief  instigator  and  persecutor,  who 
was  slumbering  serenely  with  his  face  on  the  table.  The 
toils  of  his  arduoi?s  position  had  overcome  this  watdh-dog 
of  justice;  after  all  his  labors  and  his  Jamaica,  he  "  slept 
well" 

The  Wizard  of  the  Massinutton  was  thus  promptly  dis- 
charged, and  in  a  moment  two  soft  arms  were  around  hia 
neck,  and  a  face  wet  with  tears  was  pressed  to  his  thin 
cheek. 

Cannie  was  crying  on  the  old  man's  bosom.* 

*  The  following  extract  from  ♦*  A  visit  to  the  Fort  Mountain,"  in  the  Southern  Lft^' 
ary  Messenger  for  February,  1841,  vnll  indicate  the  orij^ln  of  the  character  of  Old 
Powell ;"  the  first  lines  describe  the  Massinutton: 

**  On  the  left  bank  of  the  creek,  the  mountain  crowds  against  the  narrow  road— on  the 
right,  a  granite  escarpment  of  a  thousand  feet  frowns  down  upon  you— and  the  ravine 
Itself,  clothed  with  a  luxuriant  gro%vth  of  pines,  cypresses,  and  laurels,  deepens  the  gloom 
of  the  overshadowing  rocks.  .  .  .  On  a  sultry  day,  dispersed  along  the  comb  of  the 
precipice,  groups  of  these  \ailtures  (turkey  buzzards)  maybe  seen,  with  their  broad,  rusty 
wings,  half  expanded  to  the  breeze — resembling  so  many  spirits  of  darkness,  brooding 
over  the  gulf  of  perdition.  The  view  from  the  bauk  is  splendid.  Passage  Creek  is  dimin- 
ished to  a  rivulet,  whose  murmurs  are  faint  as  the  dying  wind  in  the  pines  around  us.  Th« 
highway  along  its  bank,  seems  but  a  Minding  footpnth,  over  which  tlie  millboy's  horse 
— didst  think  it  was  a  small  brindled  dog  with  a  whit€  spot  on  its  back  t-eteals  without 
any  apparent  effort  or  motion  of  its  own.  Wliat  a  majestic  mountain  this  across  tha 
defile !  It  looks  like  Atlas,  strong  enough  to  sustain  the  world  upon  its  shoulder*. 
Within  this  fort  a  comparative  abundance  of  wild  game  is  still  to  be  found,  particularly 
wild  hogs  descended  from  the  domestic  breeds,  but  fierce  as  the  monsters  of  the  Py- 
renees. It  is  caUed  "  Powell's  Fort,"  after  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  the  country,  the 
tllley  of  tlie  creek  is  also  known  as  "the  Fort."  There  is  a  curious  and  populai  tra- 
tition  cherished  in  the  neighborhood  regarding  *'  Old  Powell."  It  is  said  th  it  he  was 
an  advocate  of  a  specie  currency,  and  to  assist  the  Government  in  the  promction  a 
•pecie  circulation,  (established  a  hard  money  factory  on  his  own  responsibility,  »Qd 
coined  thousan<i3  of  the  genuine  Carolus  ITl  —Dei  gratia  procui-ing  his  metai 
from  mines  in  the  ricinity  only  known  to  him.  Suspected,  and  fearing  detection, 
he  barreled  up  his  immense  treasure,  and  buried  it  at  various  places  in  the  mountama. 
Without  diBi'loshig  the  secret  h©  died,  aij<i  the  ha,rrels  oif  silver  still  remain  tindistat^ed 
WoMut  uQdliiooTere4>'* 


176 


VAIBFAX.  0& 


XXXV. 

THE  RESEMBLANCE. 

IIE  old  man  gently  caressed  the  soft  hair  of  the 

cliild,  and  gazed  into  her  face,  which  was  all 
April  smiles  and  tears,  with  a  depth  of  tender 
affection  which  made  the  countenance,  ordina- 
rily  so  proud  and  cold,  almost  beautiful  and  winning. 

Then  raising  his  head,  Sir  William  Powys,  or  the  Wizard, 
if  we  may  be  aMowed  to  still  employ  the  name  by  which  he 
was  most  generally  known,  looked  around  upon  the  crowd, 
who  regarded  him  with  strange  and  superstitious  interest. 
There  were  many  persons  in  the  assembly  whose  heads  had 
moved  significantly  from  side  to  side  when  the  strange  per- 
sonage demanded  a  private  interview  with  Lord  Fairfax. 
No  good  would  result  for  his  lordship,  these  wiseacres  de- 
clared, from  yielding  to  this  demand.  Once  alone  with 
him,  the  wizard  would  be  sure  to  "  bewitch "  him — he 
would  cast  a  spell  on  him,  and  then  vanish  in  a  cloud  o^ 
brimstone.  Some  of  these  philosophers  were  by  no  means 
certain  that  if  this  were  not  the  case,  the  mysterious  wizard 
would  not  be  seen  issuing  from  the  window  of  the  tavern, 
mounted  upon  a  handsome  flying  horse,  once  Lord  Fair- 
tax;  now  destined  to  bear  the  prisoner  away  in  triumph  to 
aome  diaboUcal  royel  of  witches  in  the  depths  of  the  "  Hog- 
Back." 

It  restJted  from  this  condition  of  public  feeling,  that 
when  the  wizard,  who  had  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  the 
more  moderate  among  the  wiseacres,  by  procuring  a  prompi 
acquittal  through  his  interview  with  the  Earl,  looked  round 
apoM  the  crowd,  they  recoiled  with  an  unmistakable  expresh 


I 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GKEENWAY  OOUBT.  17T 

oon  of  dread,  and  left  him  standing,  almost  alone^  with  his 
child,  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment. 

A  sUght  curl  of  the  hrm  lip  greeted  this  movemeLt,  and 
the  wizard  was  about  to  turn  away  indifferently,  when 
suddenly  his  eyes  were  riveted  upon  a  richly-clad  figure, 
framed,  as  it  were,  in  the  doorway,  and  gazing  upon  him 
with  deep  interest  and  sympathy. 

That  figure  was  that  of  Falconbridge,  who,  having 
watched  the  absurd  trial,  and  witnessed  the  scene  between 
the  prisoner  and  his  daughter,  now  rejoiced  at  the  result, 
and  regarded  them,  as  they  stood  wrapped  in  each  other's 
embrace,  with  kindly  sniiles  and  pleasure. 

The  wizard  fixed  upon  the  young  man,  as  he  stood  thus 
framed  in  the  doorway,  like  a  picture,  one  of  those  glances 
vhich  seem  to  penetrate  into  the  soul  of  the  person  upon 
^hom  they  are  riveted.  There  was  much  in  the  gallant 
and  graceful  form  of  Falconbridge — in  his  proud,  laughing 
face,  and  elegant  costume — to  attract  attention ;  but  the 
iook  now  bent  upon  him  was  not  one  of  simple  admiration 
or  curiosity.  It  expressed  surprise,  deep  fefMng,  and  a 
species  of  wondering  doubt. 

The  young  man  perceived  the  glance  directed  toward 
him,  and  without  understanding  it,  approached,  and  said, 
kindly: 

"I  am  rejoiced  at  your  acquittal,  sir;  as  much  for  your 
own  sake,  as  you  seem  very  old,  as  for  your  little  daughter. 
My  father  taught  me  to  respect  and  bow  to  purity  and  de- 
votion wherever  I  met  with  them,  and  I  think  I  cannot  be 
mistaken  in  saying  that  your  child  is  both  innocent  and 
courageous — faithful  and  noble-hearted." 

With  these  words,  which  were  uttered  in  that  tone  of 
simplicity  and  sincerity,  which  characterized  his  voice,  the 
young  man  held  out  his  hand  to  Oannie,  extending  the 
other  toward  the  old  man. 

The  girl's  soft,  little  fingers  glided  into  those  of  Falcon 


i 


178 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


bridge,  and  a  grave,  sweet  glance,  shining  ^oxigh  the  teaiti 

in  her  eyes,  rewarded  the  speaker. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  she  said,  in  her  low,  musical  voioOp 

for  speaking  so  kindly  to  us — to  grandpapa.  You  are  not 
like  those  people  who  have  gone — your  face  is  kind." 

And  Cannie  pressed  the  hand  frankly,  and  looked 
"  thanks  I"  with  her  whole  heart. 

The  old  man  had,  however,  drawn  back  unconsciously 
^hen  Falconbridge  greeted  him.  He  had  not  taken  the 
hwind.  Still,  looking  at  him  with  that  strange  air  which  we 
have  described,  he  said : 

"What  is  your  name,  sir?*' 

The  words  were  almost  rude,  but  the  tone  in  which  they 
^ere  pronounced  did  not  so  impress  the  hearer.  The 
wizard  plainly  intended  no  sHght — ^it  was  some  mysterious 
sentiment  of  wonder  which  spoke  in  his  voice,  in  his  abrupt 
question:  and  the  young  man  comprehended  this  instinclr- 
ively. 

"  My  name  is  Falconbridge,  sir,"  he  replied,  wth  a  courte- 
ous inchnation;  "I  have  but  recently  come  to  this  region.** 

*^  Falconbridge  1  I  thought  so !  I  was  sure  of  it  1"  mur- 
mured the  wizard.  "  Strange !  Strange !  who  would  ever 
have  believed  I"  

There  he  suddenly  stopped.  By  a  sudden  and  powerful 
effort  he  controlled  his  emotion;  his  countenance  subsided 
again  into  its  customary  calmness,  and  he  bowed  in  return, 
taking  the  hand  which  was  stUl  half  extended. 

I  tliank  you,  Mr.  Falconbridge,"  he  said,  coolly,  "  and 
beg  you  will  not  attribute  my  singTilar  ques-tion  to  any  dis- 
position to  affront  you.  You  bear  a  very  remarkable  resem- 
blance to  a  person  whom  I  once  knew;  thib  must  be  my 
excuse  for  the  very  rude  reception  I  have  given  to  your  kind 
speech  and  sympathy." 

"  It  is  nothing — scarcely  noted  it,"  returned  the  young 
man,  smHing,  "  and  as  to  any  kindness,  I  am  sure,  sir, 
that  I  deserve  no  praise.   My  heart  leaped  when  your  chilj 


raK  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  CCUBT.  179 


came  so  bravely  to  your  side  —and  I  bow  to,  and  honor  her 
I  have  never  seen  a  princess  or  a  queen--but  I  think  she  ifl 
worthy  to  be  either !" 

"Oh,  sir,"  exclaimed  Cannie,  blushing,  "you  make  me 
feel  ashamed  I  It  was  notMng  for  me  to  come  to  grand- 
papa's side.  He  is  all  I  have  in  world,  and  I  love  him 
dearly,  with  my  whole  heart.  And  you,  grandpapa,"  added 
Cannie,  turning  and  whispering  to  the  old  man  vdth  a  smile, 
"  you  know  you  love  me  just  as  dearly." 

"  That  is  very  certain,"  was  the  low  reply,  accompanied 
by  the  look  which  always  came  to  the  face  when  it  was  turned 
toward  the  girl;  "and  now%  my  child,  let  us  go  to  our 
private  room.  We  must  remain  here  all  night — but  we  will 
return  home  early  in  the  morning." 

"  Come  with  me,  sir,"  said  the  voice  of  Lord  Fairfax,  at 
the  speaker's  elbow,  "I  have  ample  room  for  you  and  your 
daughter  at  Greenway  Court — it  will  be  far  more  comfort- 
able." 

"I  thank  you,  my  lord,"  returned  the  other,  with  a  cere- 
monious inclination,  "but  the  nights  grow  chill,  and  my 
daughter  is  delicate." 

"The  blinds  of  the  chariot  may  be  easily  closed,  sir," 
said  the  Earl,  looking  wistfully  at  Cannie. 

"  Your  lordship  will  not  consider  me  ill-bred — that  is  to 
say  ungrateful — ^if  I  stiU  decline  your  goodness.  If  my 
child  should  wish  at  another  time  to  visit  Greenway  Court," 
added  the  old  man,  exchanging  a  look  with  the  Earl,  "  it 
will  give  me  true  pleasure  to  bring  her  thither — or  to  en- 
taist  her  to  our  good  friend  here,  Mr.  George.  May  I  take 
that  liberty,  Mr.  George?" 

That  liberty!  tli ought  George,  as  his  heart  gave  a  bound 
at  the  idea  of  a  long  gallop  through  the  prairie,  with  Can- 
nie's  arm  around  his  waist;  but  he  suppressed  his  delight, 
Bud  replied  with  extreme  gravity  and  politeness,  that  it 
would  give  him  very  great  pleasure. 

**And  noWi  my  lord^'^  said  the  wizard,  "let  me,  before  I 


180 


FAIRFAX  ;  OB, 


leave  you,  say  how  much  I  am  indebted  to  your  lordship 
for  my  release  from  this  prosecution — a  p7'osecution  which 
I  dreaded  far  more  for  the  grief  it  caused  my  child  than  on 
my  own  account.  I  am  old,  and  care  little  what  comes  to 
me — whether  of  weal  or  woe — ^but  she  is  young  and  tender- 
hearted.   Thanks !  thanks,  again  for  our  freedom !" 

The  speaker  was  standing  as  before,  with  his  arm  around 
Cannie,  and  by  them  stood  Falconbridge,  smiling.  Not 
only  the  Earl,  but  George,  and  Captain  Wagner,  who  were 
near  at  hand,  were  struck  with  the  singular  resemblance 
between  the  three,  and  afterwards  spoke  of  it.  One  was 
sevenly,  and  gray-headed;  the  second  twenty-three  or  four, 
and  in  the  bloom  of  manhood;  the  child,  a  girl  of  fifteen, 
with  innocent,  sweet  eyes,  and  tender  hps.  But  the  re- 
semblance was  as  perfect  in  all  three  as  if  they  were  the 
offspring  of  the  same  parents. 

For  a  moment  they  remained  thus  motionless,  then  bow- 
ing again,  the  wizard  retired  with  Cannie  to  a  private 
room,  having  arranged  with  Mynheer  Van  Doring  on  the 
way,  for  a  vehicle  in  the  morning. 

Lord  Fairfax  turned  to  Falconbridge,  and  said  ; 

"  I  think  you  have  not  yet  considted  me  upon  your  affairs, 
Mr.  Falconbridge.  If  it  suits  your  convenience  at  the  pre- 
sent moment,  you  might  accept  a  seat  in  my  chariot,  and 
sleep  at  Greenway.    What  say  you,  sir?" 

"  I  accept  your  lordship's  offer  with  many  thanks/'  was 
the  rej)ly. 

And  very  soon  the  young  man  and  the  Earl  were  rolling 
toward  Greenway,  beneath  the  new  risen  moon,  whic  \  min- 
gled its  light  v/ith  that  of  the  setting  sun,  and  commui  icateJ 
to  the  dreary  stretch  of  prairie  land  a  wild  and  mys>  erioua 
charm. 

As  to  George,  and  Captain  Wagner,  they  remained  at  tha 
Ordinary  for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves,  but  easily 
comprehensible  by  the  reader.  "&eorge  staid  t>ccause 
Ofumie  woizld  spend  the  night  there  ;  the  Captain  beoftOflf 


TSl  1CA0TEB  07  GREEinrAT  OOUBT  181 


his  eloquenoe  had  triumphed  in  favor  of  Winchester;  and 
the  fair  Mrs.  Butterton  was,  no  doubt,  ready  to  thank,  per- 
haps to  reward  him. 

Meanwhile  the  chariot  containing  the  Earl  and  Falcon- 
bridge  roUed  on  in  silence.  The  few  common-place  words 
had  died  away.    Lord  Fairfax  seemed  deeply  preoccupied. 

At  last,  as  they  approached  the  clump  of  trees,  indicating 
Greenway,  the  Earl  raised  his  drooping  shoulders,  uttered  a 
long,  deep  sigh,  and  muttered  : 

"  I  wonder  if  a  single  heart  beats  still  for  me,  in  dear  old 
England.   No,  I  think  not  one  I — not  one  I" 


182 


JTAIBFAX;  OE 


XXXVI. 

CAMPAIGN  OF  GENEKAL  LONGXNITa. 

HE  Captain  twirled  his  moustaclie. 

We  would  call  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  &6 

fact,  which  we  h.£i\e  hitherto  omitted  to  mention, 
that  Captain  Wagner  was  always  engaged  in 
twirling  his  moustache.  Or,  if  the  statement  seems  extreme 
and  improbable,  let  us  simply  say  that  he  was  often  thus 
laboriously  occupied,  and  seemed  to  derive  much  innocent 
satisfaction  from  the  ceremony. 

On  the  present  occasion  he  gave  to  the  martial  append- 
age a  jaunty  and  gaUant  curl  toward  the  eyes;  then  he 
looked  at  Mrs.  Butterton,  who  was  busily  knitting  opposite 
the  Captain,  and  the  table  by  the  Captain,  upon  which  was 
deposited  the  Captain's  warm  glass  of  punch  and  unfilled 
pipe. 

Monsieur  Jambot,  for  the  moment  in  deep  disgrace,  was 
forlornly  carrying  on  a  sleepy  conversation  with  Mynheer 
Van  Doring  in  one  corner — a  ceremony  which  resulted  be- 
tween the  two  in  an  awful  mutilation  of  King  George  the 
Second's  English.  In  another  corner  George  and  Cannie 
were  talking  in  a  low  tone,  and  assisting  what  they  uttered 
with  smiles  and  confidential  glances. 

M3  dear  Mrs.  Butterton,"  said  the  Captain,  "  have  you 
any  commands  in  Belhaven — or,  as  these  new-fangled  folks 
will  call  it,  Alexandria  f  It's  a  siaame  to  be  re-christening 
90  promising  a  child — or  I'm  a  dandy ! 

"Any  commands  in  Belhaven?"  asked  the  lady  with  a 
little  aimper  and  flutter;  "why  do  you  ask,  Captain  7" 


THE  30.STEB  OF  GBEEKWAY  COtJBT, 


188 


Because  I  think  it  likely  that  1*11  go  back  soon  to  aniuse 
myself.    You  remain  here,  I  believe." 

These  cold  and  cruel  words  made  the  lady's  heart  throb. 
Then  Captain  Wagner  cared  nothing  for  her ! 

"  "Yes,"  she  said,  faintly,  "  perhaps  till  the  spring." 

"I  would  liks  to  do  as  much  myself/'  continued  the 
worthy,  "but  the  rascally  Injuns,  whose  scalps  I  was  to 
have,  won't  come,  and  it  is  repugnant  to  the  feelings  of  a 
•oldier  to  be  living  on  that  honest  fellow,  Fairfax,  without 
doing  him  any  service  in  return." 

"  Why,  Captain,"  said  Mrs.  Butterfcon,  with  evident  admi- 
ration in  her  eyes,  for  one  who  spoke  in  this  free  and  easy 
way  of  so  great  a  nobleman,  "  why,  Captain,  his  lordship  is 
delighted  at  your  visit,  and  I  heard  him  with  my  own  ears 
Bay,  no  longer  ago  than  this  morning,  that  you  were  worth 
a  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  him  in  good  spirits  I" 

"All  flattery!"  returned  the  soldier,  "or  I'm  a  dandy  I 
I  have  remonstrated  with  Fairfax  about  that  bad  habit  he 
has  of  trying  to  ingratiate  himself  with  people  by  flattering 
them.  He  knew  you  were  my  friend—that  you  would  re- 
peat it — and  he  is  trying  to  get  around  me." 

"  Oh,  Captain !    How  can  you  talk  so  of  his  lordship !" 

The  worthy  laughed. 

"He's  only  a  man  like  anybody  else,  my  dear  Mrs.  But* 
terton ;  it's  not  his  fault  that  he  is  called  Earl  and  Baron, 
Fm  free  to  say  he'd  be  a  dooms  good  fellow  under  any  cir- 
cumstances. I  like  Fairfax.  He's  no  pretender.  And  I 
repeat  that  I  don't  like  to  be  eating  and  drinking,  as  /  eat 
and  drink,  at  his  expense,  when  the  Injun  devils  decline 
coming  along  and  getting  themselves  cl  one  for  I  I  was  sent 
for  to  eat  Injuns,  not  beef  I  to  drink  blood,  not  Jamaica  I 
And  these  Injuns — where  are  they  ?  Nowhere,  or  may  the 
--hum  I" 

The  soldier  terminated  this  sentence  by  swallowing  a 
mouthful  of  punch,  which  seemed  to  refresh  him  greatly. 
Wbj,  Ciqrtain,"  said  Mrs.  Butterton,    jou  are  oertainly 


fAiBfAx;  on, 


mistaken  about  the  chance  of  an  inroad.    The;  say  there's 

no  certainty  of  peace  fi'om  day  to  day." 

"  My  dear  madam,"  returned  the  Borderer,  "  it  has  been 
my  habit  for  a  number  of  years  to  hunt  up  Mr,  *  They  Say, 
and  when  I  have  heard  his  views  to  go  and  lay  my  plans 
precisely  to  the  contrary.  I  have  no  respect  for  *  They 
Say.'  I  know  the  rascal — he  is  as  completely  ignorant  of 
what  is  really  going  on  as  a  mole !  Even  if  the  Injun  ras- 
cals do  come  along,  let  Fairfax  send  down  for  me!  I  can't 
be  neglecting  my  most  important  affairs  dangKng  here-* 
abouts,  and  chopping  arguments  with  his  earlshipl" 

"Your  affairs?"  persisted  the  lady,  smiling,  "why,  Cap- 
tain, you  have  no  business  m  Belhaven,  have  you  ?" 

The  conversation  was  taking  the  direction  which  the  cun- 
ning Captain  desired.    He  smiled. 

"  Well,  really,"  he  said,  "  I  hardly  know  how  to  reply  to 
you,  my  dear  madam — to  reply  without  touching  upon  a 
most  delicate  subject — ^you  comprehend  ?" 

The  lady  blushed,  but  said  nothing. 

"It  is  true,"  continued  Captain  Wagner,  "that  many 
people  would  say  I  had  no  business  whatsoever  to  attend  to 
in  Belhaven,  Hke  merchants,  and  shopkeepers,  lawyers,  and 
all  that  small  fry,  who  are  thinking  all  the  time  of  money 
and  nothing  else—not  Hke  us  soldiers,  of  honor  and  glory, 
and — ^hem! — love." 

"  Of — ^love  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Butterton,  faintly.  What  could 
the  Captain  mean? 

"I  would  not  refer  to  these  matters  with  any  one  else,  my 
dear  madam,"  said  the  worthy,  edging  his  chair  across  to 
Mrs.  Butterton's  side,  and  speaking  in  low,  confidential 
tones;  "  but  you  are  my  good  friend,  and  are  well  acquaint- 
ed with-  -the  lady." 

"The  lady"  And  Mrs.  Butterton's  voice  died  away  in 

her  throat. 

^'Ihe  fair  Emmelina,  your  friend,"  whispered  the  Oap' 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAT  COURT. 


186 


lain,  bending  over.  But  his  companion's  agitation  mada 
her  turn  away  her  head — she  could  not  reply. 

"  Miss  Emmelina/'  continued  the  subtle  campaigner,  iai 
the  same  confidential  tone,  "  is,  it  is  true,  past  the  bloom  of 
youth.  She  is  nearly  my  own  age,  indeed,  I  fancy,  and  thii 
might  seem  to  many  persons  an  objection.  But  is  it  really 
Buch  ?  I  am  tired,  my  dear  madam,  of  your  school-girls  and 
young  misses — ^your  sweet  young  creatures,  fuU  of  sentiment 
and  romance — ^who  clasp  their  hands  when  they  look  at  the 
moon,  and  read  poetry  verses  and  say,  '  Oh,  how  beautiful  V 
I  don't  say  I  never  admired  'em,  but  I'm  past  all  that,  or 
may — ahem!  I  now  admire  the  ripe  flower,  not  the  bud 
— I  confess  I  want  a  wife,  and  it  has  seemed  to  me  that 
Miss  Emmelina,  your  friend,  whom  you  have  so  often 
praised,  would  make  a  noble  spouse — and  likes  me  well 
enough  to  give  me  a  fair  start — don't  you  think  so — ^Emme- 
Una?" 

And  the  Captain  scratched  his  nose,  and  regarded  the 
ceiling,  after  this  tender  exclamation,  with  an  absent  and 
pre-occupied  air,  which  was  very  striking. 

As  to  Mrs.  Butterton,  that  fair  lady  remained  for  some 
time  silent  and  blushing — then,  on  being  again  pressed  by 
the  Captain,  replied  that  she  thought — she  had  hoped — she 
— 'No !  Emmelina  was  not  calculated  to  adorn  the  married 
state.  No  doubt  Captain  Wagner  would  think — and  here 
Mrs.  Butterton  assumed  a  tone  meant  for  hauteur — that  she 
was  unjust  and  unfriendly.  Yet  candor  compelled  her  to 
Bay  that  she  knew  Emmelina  well,  but  in  spite  of  a  most 
tender  friendship  for  that  lady,  must  say  she  was  in  the 
sphere  she  was  best  calculated  to  fill — that  of  an  old  maid* 
In  that  sphere,  said  Mrs.  Butterton  with  animated  feeling, 
EmmeHna  was  worthy  of  all  praise.  She  had  her  little 
faults,  such  as  a  propensity  to  gossip,  a  disposition  to  pry 
into  her  neighbors'  matters,  and  a  talent  for  adding  to  and 
coloring  all  that  she  repeated,  which  no  doubt  arose  from 
ker  Bmartness.   She  had  certainly  been  the  cause  ol  that 


186 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


terribla  fight  at  the  comer  of  King  Street,  where  the  iwc 
lovers  cf  her  comer  neighbor  bruised  each  other  so  awfoUf , 
and  created  such  a  horrible  scandal;  but  she,  Mrs.  Butter- 
ton,  was  quite  sure  that  Emmelina  had  never  expected  any 
such  misfortune  to  take  place  in  consequence  of  her  com- 
municating the  trifle  which  she  did  to  one  of  the  young 
^en — ^it  had  given  her  great  pain,  and  she  had  deeply  re- 
gretted it.  With  these,  and  a  few  other  little  drawbacks — 
TOch  as  an  undue  love  of  money,  a  disposition  to  spend 
nothing  more  than  she  was  absolutely  compelled  to — a 
strong  dislike  and  suspicion  of  every  one  who  did  not  belong 
to  her  particular  church,  she  was  very  well  in  her  way,  as 
an  old  maid.  Out  of  that  condition,  she,  Mrs.  Butterton, 
very  greatly  feared  that  Emmelina  would  not  be  a  very  per- 
fect character.  She  was  httle  suited  for  a  wife,  still,  if 
Captain  Wagner  thought  differently,  it  was  no  affair  of  hers. 
She  hoped  he  would  not  find  out  too  late  the  failings  in 
EmmeHna's  character. 

Having  made  this  lengthy  speech,  which  the  Captain  Ks- 
tened  to  with  silent  attention  and  a  subtle  smile,  Mrs.  But- 
terton  apphed  herself  to  her  knitting  in  a  more  hurried 
manner  than  before,  and  assumed  an  air  of  studied  indif- 
ference. 

"  My  dear  madam,'*  replied  the  Captain,  with  earnest  and 
solemn  feehng,  "  I  thank  you  for  this  interest  in  me,  but 
are  you  not  misled  somewhat  in  your  estimate  of  the  sweet 
Emmelina,  by  the  opinions  of  those  persons  who  dislike 
her?  Are  the  fair  sex  at  all  given  to  gossip?  I  do 
not,  I  cannot  believe  it,  my  dear  madam!  I  will  never 
credit  the  assertion!  True,  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
when  they  get  to  be  old  women — even  after  the  tender 
and  still  blooming  age  of  twenty-five,  they  experience  the 
extremest  pleasuj;e  in  the  circulation  of  intelligence  about 
their  friends.  The  irreverent  and  low-minded  individual 
who  made  this  statement  in  my  hearing,  added  that  M<? 
trutA  was  so  dear  to  these  angelic  newscarriers,  that  much 
of  their  existence  was  hearsay  and  fondly  dedicated  to 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  COURT. 


187 


Ihe  task  of  decking  it  in  bright  apparel,  and  presenting  it 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  forcibly  impress  it  on  the  minds  02 
those  who  made  its  acquaintance.  '  The  poor,  plain  maiden 
Truth,'  this  wretched  person  added,  '  scarcely  knew  hersell 
when  she  was  thus  pranked  out;  and  none  of  her  old  friends 
could  recognize  her.'  Now,  all  these  base  insinuations  1 
abhor  and  utterly  reject  and  despise!  Attribute  to  the 
fair  sex  any  such  poor,  narrow  conduct?  regard  them  as 
laboring  under  this  *  disease,-  as  the  low  fellow  worded  it— 
as  the  victims  of  a  sickly  craving  ?  Never  !  never  !  I  don't 
respect  the  man  who  allows  his  mind  to  be  filled  with  such 
base  prejudices !  What,  madam !  Acknowledge  that  the 
beautiful  and  superior  sex — the  better  half  of  human  beings 
— fritter  away  their  time  and  intellect  on  little  smirking 
gossip  and  tittle-tattle!  Believe  that  they  go  rounl  and 
smile  and  whisper,  and  stab  people  in  secret  behind  their 
backs — and  when  they  meet  them  afterwards,  squeeze  their 
hands  and  look  into  their  eyes  with  teD  ler  friendship !  Be- 
lieve that  when  the  female  mind  should  grow  in  dignity  and 
sweetness,  that  it  only  waxes  smaller  and  more  narrow — 
festering  away  into  nods  and  smirks,  and  *  guggle — guggle — 
guggle — whish — sh — sh — sh!'  beneath  the  breath!  Credit 
this  statement,  madam !  think  thus  of  the  ladies  ! — never  I 
never !  The  cynical  and  sneering  may  believe  it,  but  Captain 
Julius  Wagner  ?    Never  1" 

The  worthy  uttered  these  indignant  words  with  such  so- 
lemnity and  emphasis  that  Mrs,  Butterton  experienced  a 
sentiment  of  admiration  for  the  speaker  and  his  lofty  views, 
AmountiDg  almost  to  enthusiasm. 

What  he  said  of  women  was  quite  worthy  of  his  generous 
and  hberal  heart,  she  replied,  and  did  him  honor.  It  was 
rare  to  find  a  gentleman  so  ma^qnanimous  toward  the  fair 
sex,  and  she  would  not  have  him  think  that  she  intended  to 
speck  harshly  of  her  friend  Emmelina.  She  had  alluded  tc 
those  little  foibles  in  her  character,  without  the  least  inten- 
tion or  deaire  of  doing  her  injustice— and  perhaps  she  waa 


188 


FAIKFAX;  OB, 


mistaken  ia  her.   It  was  more  than  human  natnre  ootdd 

accompliyh,  to  b3come  free  from  every  failing — ^and  "^m 
melina  was,  perhaps,  no  worse  than  many  others. 

"Again  I  thank  you,  my  dear  madam,'*  said  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "  you  are  a  friend  indeed !  But  let  me  ask  if  there  u 
not  a  chance  of  all  these  little  foibles  disappearing  aftei 
matrimony — I  mean  in  case  I  were  to  become  the  happy — 
hum! — possessor  of  the  beauteous  Emm eHna?  I  have  fre 
quently  observed  this  singular  change.  There  was  my  friend, 
Dick  Thonderguste — he  married  a  perfect  vixen,  and  I  assure 
you,  on  the  word  of  Wagner,  that  in  six  months  you  wouldn't 
have  known  her — she  was  so  meek  and  mild  I  There,  again, 
was  my  old  playmate,  Charley  Ryan,  who  always  smiled 
when  people  got  angry.  He  married  his  cousin,  a  quiet, 
sonny  little  thing,  who  seemed  as  good-natured  and 
Boft  as  a  May  morning.  And  what  was  the  consequence? 
In  a  year,  madam,  Mrs.  Eyan  was  a  tartar— yes,  a  ter- 
ror to  her  household,  including  Charley!  I  never  dared 
to  go  and  see  him — she  looked  so  black  al^  me.  I  would 
sometimes  call  on  Charley  when  I  knew  she  was  out ;  but 
when  her  footstep  was  heard  on  the  porch,  I  would  take  my 
hat  unconsciously,  wring  Charley's  hand  with  deep  commis- 
eration, and  get  off,  if  possible,  without  meeting  the  lady. 
You  see  I  was  afraid  of  her — of  that  timid  little  thing! — I, 
Captain  Longknife  I — and  all  this  has  induced  me  to  suppose 
that  marriage  frequently  changes  the  fair  sex.  Don^t  you 
think  so,  my  dear  madam? — and  might  it  not  change  Em- 
mehna — ^EmmeUna !" 

And  the  ^  orthy  again  gazed  at  the  ceiling. 

"It  may,"  said  Mrs.  Butterton,  curtly  but  sadly  too. 

"If  I  return  to  my  home  yonder,"  however  added  the  Cap* 
tain,"  I  shall  take  with  me  the  satisfaction  of  reflecting,  mad- 
am, that  I  have  been  of  some  service  to  you.  It  rejoices  mo 
to  reflect  that  this  day  the  to^Ti  of  Winchester  has  been  se- 
lected as  the  county  seat.  I  rejoice  upon  your  account  wholly, 
madam ;  for  oonfidentiaUj  speakiji^,  I  regard  the  village  oi 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREEN  WAY  COURT. 


180 


Winchester  as  the  poorest  place  on  the  habitable  gli)be.  It 
is  a  failure — it  always  will  be ! — there  are  no  men  of  publio 
spirit  there — no  natural  advantages — and  mark  me !  there  is 
no  future  for  Winchester !  Stephensburg,  on  the  contrary,  ia 
the  pearl  of  towns,  the  diamond  of  villages.  It  bids  fair  to 
become  a  gigantic  city.  Fairfax  is  a  man  of  intelligence, 
and  he  understood  this,  and  preferred  Stephensburg.  But 
for  you  I  should  have  gone  for  it — when,  of  course,  madam, 
it  would  have  been  chosen.  But  I  could  not  desert  a  friend 
one  for  whom  I  had  so  great  a — ^hum — regard ;  so  real  a — 
hum — attachment!  I  declared  war  against  Fairfax  on  my 
own  private  account — I  went  about  to  see  the  justices — 1 
made  a  little  speech — it  was  nothing,'*  said  the  Captain, 
modestly,  "  a  mere  series  of  remarks — and  I  beat  his  lord- 
ship, ha!  ha!  I  say,  my  dear  madam,  that  if  I  go,  I  shall 
take  away  with  me  this  pleasing  reflection — ^if  I  go." 

*'Why  do  you  go?''  said  Mrs.  Butterton,  fixing  upon 
Captain  Wagner  her  most  significant  glance. 

The  Captain  sighed,  and  looked  deeply  depressed. 

"  Because — I  have  not  told  you — "  he  said  in  almost  a 
whisper,  "because  there  is  another  reason,  stronger  than 
any  I  have  given." 

"  Another  reason  ?'* 

The  Captain  accidentally  secured  one  of  the  lady's  hands, 
which  hung  at  her  side. 

"Because  I  have  been  defeated  once,  madam,  and  am 
afraid  to  remain  near  the  enemy — like  a  coward !  afraid ! 
Because  I  am  subjected  to  the  pain  of  seeing  what  I  wish  to 
possess,  ever  before  me,  yet  beyond  my  reach !  Because  I 
am  humiliated,  mortified,  lowered  in  my  own  opinion,  by 
finding  myself  distanced  by  a  professor  of  the  frivolous  art 
of  dancing  and  music  playing" — ^here  the  Captain  darted 
a  terrific  scowl,  full  of  gloomy  rage,  at  the  unconscioua 
Monsieur  Jambot — "  and  because  it  does  not  become  a  sol- 
dier to  get  on  his  knees  and  beg,  or  ciouch  like  a  hound  to 
be  ent  I   These^  madam,"  said  Captain  Wagner^  with  an  aif 


190 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


of  touching  sorrow,  *^  are  the  reasons  which  iof  ^  me  to  leavi 
this  neighborhood — which  drive  me  away  from  your  side  I 
If  I  thought  this  fair  hand,  which  I  hold,  cared  to  rest  in 
my  clasp — if  I  thought  it  would  not  drop  mine  hke  a  hot — 
hum — indifferently: — if  I  thought  it  would  retain  me,  when 
I  was  going  away  forever — then  I  would  stay,  for  it  is  my 
most  coveted  treasure.  But  this  is  folly — ^farewell!  fare- 
well !" 

Having  uttered  these  whispered  words  in  a  tone  of  digni- 
fied  misery  and  unfaltering  resolve,  the  Captain  made  a  mo- 
tion to  withdraw  his  hand  and  go.  But  strange ! — unex- 
pected!— astounding  event! — event  wholly  unanticipated  of 
thought  of  by  the  Captain  ! — the  hand  which  he  would  have 
released  would  not  suffer  that  ceremony  to  be  performed. 
With  a  gentle  pressure  it  retained  the  soldier's,  and  the 
owner  of  the  hand  turned  away  her  blushing  countenance, 
but  not  before  she  had  bestowed  upon  her  companion  a 
glance  which  said  plainly  as  glance  could  say:  "If  anoth- 
er defeat  is  aU  thg^t  you  fear,  you  need  fear  no  longer — foi 
the  enemy  whom  you  are  afraid  of  is  ready  to  capitulate — 
the  hand  which  you  think  cold,  is  ready  to  rest  here,  in 
your  own  for  life !" 

The  fair  J^Irs.  Butterton  may  not  have  made  use  of  this 
elegant  and  graceful  speech,  which  we  have  skillfully  attri- 
buted, therefore,  to  the  "  glance  of  her  eye,"  but  before  the 
interview  terminated,  the  overjoyed  Captain  received  from 
the  lady's  lips  the  assurance  that  she  was  willing  to  become 
Mrs.  Captain  Wagner. 

The  rest  of  the  company  could  not  tell  what  made  the 
Captain's  countenance  shine  so  resplendently  as  he  finished 
his  punch  at  a  single  gTdp,  or  why  Mrs.  Butterton  was  so 
gay  and  so  sorrowful  by  turns. 

We  know  the  meaning  of  the  first  of  these  emotions;  the 
second  is  as  simply  explained.  The  dame  was  looking  wi\h 
frity  at  her  disappointed  suitor  Monsieur  Jambot 


TSB  MAflTSB  OF  GBEKNWAY   COUXfi  Idl 


XXXVIL 

THE  EARL  AND  FALCONBRIDGfi. 

N  the  large  apartment  at  Greenway  Court,  whose 
picturesque  decorations — stags'  horns,  guns,  old 
swords,  and  long  tapering  rods — were  lit  up  by 
the  cheerful  fire-light,  and  the  more  steady  radi- 
ance of  two  candles  in  the  tall,  silver  candlesticks,  the  Earl 
and  Falconbridge  talked  long,  and  on  many  subjects. 

The  young  man  speedily  found  that  nothing  need  now 
detain  him  in  the  region.  There  was  no  longer  any  occasion 
to  proceed  to  the  far  South  Branch  of  the  Potomac,  whither 
he  had  promised  himself  a  trip  with  George,  who  had  com- 
pletely won  his  heart.  The  lands  which  he  came  to  look 
after,  were  all  laid  down  upon  the  rudely-traced  maps  which 
Lord  Fairfax  spread  before  him:  his  title  was  secured  be- 
yond all  question;  and  the  slight  quit-rent  only,  a  mere 
nothing,  guaranteed  the  right  of  property  conclusively. 

It  was  then  that,  passing  away  from  business,  the  host 
and  his  guest  conversed  on  other  things  for  hours — those 
long  hours  of  the  autumn  night,  which  glide  by  rapidly  like 
joyful  dreams,  for  the  happy  and  light-hearted,  but  which 
lag  so  drearily  for  those  whose  spirits  are  oppressed. 

Falconbridge  listened  with  a  strange  interest  to  the  mel- 
ftnoholy  tones  of  this  singular  man.  Everything  about  the 
Earl  excited  his  imagination*  Hera,  beyond  the  Blue  Kidge 
Mountains,  in  the  Virginia  wilderness,  he  conversed  with 
one  who  had  once  shone  among  the  most  splendid  noble- 
men of  the  English  Court;  who  had  lived  in  the  brilliant 
circle  of  which  Bolingbroke,  and  Somerset,  and  Shaftes- 
bury, and  Joseph  Addison  were  the  ornaments;  who  had 
writtexifox the  Spectator'' — and  been  equally  disting^oished 


192 


FAIKPAX;  OR, 


in  fashion  and  in  letters:  this  exile  was  his  hcet,  in  ih« 
lonely  mansion,  and  in  his  melancholy  monologue,  there 
was  an  irresistible  attraction,  a  strange  spell  which  the 
youDg  man  could  not  throw  off.  He  leaned  forward  in  hi^ 
chair,  and  gathered  every  word  which  fell  from  the  griio 
lips;  every  word  was  a  new  thought,  a.  new  emotion. 

The  gallant  face  of  Falconbridge  had  id  /ts  turn  strongly 
impressed  the  Earl,  though  he  exhibited  little  evidence  ol 
the  fact.  We  have  said  that  his  long  commerce  with  the 
great  world  had  made  him  wonderfully  penetrating  in  his 
views  and  judgment  of  character.  He  thus  comprehended 
quickly  the  man  with  whom  he  was  conversing.  In  Fal- 
conbridge he  recognized  an  organization  of  singular  nobiUty 
and  sincerity.  The  spirit  breathed  by  the  Almighty  into 
this  clay,  was  plainly  of  extraordinary  delicacy.  He  under- 
stood the  silent  indications  of  eye,  and  Hp,  and  smiile,  and 
gesture;  he  saw  in  the  nature  of  this  youth,  the  scorn  of 
falsehood;  the  love  of  truth;  the  pride  of  which  made  him 
bow  only  before  honesty  and  what  was  noble  and  sincere; 
all  the  traits  which  go  to  form  that  lofty  character,  the  true 
gentleman. 

The  Earl  saw  aU  this  at  a  single  glance,  and  watched  with 
a  grim  and  wistful  interest,  the  emotions  chasing  each 
other  rapidly  across  the  eloquent  face.  He  saw  that  he  was 
appreciated;  and  this  is  always  an  agreeable  conviction  with 
men  of  proud,  strong  natures,  and  original  minds.  The 
colloquy  thus  came  at  last  to  embrace  a  great  variety  ol 
subjec^;  the  different  worlds  in  which  the  two  men  had 
been  oweUers;  England  over  the  sea,  and  Virginia  here 
with  all  that  made  them  what  they  were;  the  aims  of  coble 
manhood,  the  philosoply  of  life;  the  past,  the  future,  and 
what  lay  beyond  the  future  of  this  world,  in  the  undiscov- 
ered realm  of  silence.  These  mortals  who  represented  from 
a  different  point  of  view  a  single  class — the  class  who  make 
the  pole-star  Honor  for  their  guide,  and  sail  toward  the 
course  it  points,  through  gloom  and  tempest,  whether  that 


THB  MASTER  OF  aREElfWAT  OOUBT 


gidl  be  in  a  crazy  sMflf  or  a  mighty  ship — these  men,  both 
eminent  for  lofty  traits,  for  cultivated  intellects,  and  noble 
instincts,  recognized  in  each  other  something  strangely  sim- 
ilar, and  gave  their  confidence  unasked. 

Falconbridge  spoke  without  reserve  of  his  life,  his  sur- 
roundings in  the  Lowland,  his  amusements — of  everything  : 
and  the  Earl  gave  a  picture  in  his  turn  of  Ufe  in  England 
without,  however,  touching  upon  his  private  history.  It 
was  only  in  certain  moods,  and  in  presence  of  such  old 
acquaintances  as  Captain  Wagner,  that  the  stern  and  mel- 
ancholy nobleman  threw  off  his  mask  of  cold  reserve.  His 
manner  to  Falconbridge  was  perfectly  polite,  but  perfectly 
ceremonious  too;  the  young  man  was  plainly  nothing  more 
to  him  than  a  very  agreeable  stranger. 

"  Virginia,  Mr.  Falconbridge,"  he  said,  "  is  England  sim- 
ply under  a  different  form.  It  is  true  that  our  white  re- 
tainers, essentially  parts  of  the  soil,  are  replaced  by  negroes 
who  are  legally  serfs  for  Hfe;  but  I  question  which  is  the 
happier  of  these  classes." 

"  I  know  our  servants  are  happy,"  replied  Falconbridge, 
"  and  we  love  them  as  they  love  us.  I  have  an  old  nurse 
who  is  quite  as  dear  to  me,  as  many  of  my  relations.  She 
nursed  me  in  my  childhood;  has  loved  me  in  my  manhood; 
and  I  am  less  her  master  than  she  is  my  mistress !  for  she 
scolds,  and  reprimands,  and  makes  me  do  just  what  she 
pleases.  I  would  rage  at  one  half  she  says  from  any  man 
in  the  world,  however  much  above  me,  but  I  can't  rage  at 
her.  I  love  her  because  I  know  she  loves  me,  and  I  think  I 
would  defend  her  at  the  peril  of  my  Hfe." 

"  I  really  think  you  would,"  returned  Lord  Fairfax,  look- 
ing  at  the  speaker  with  grim  interest;  "you  have  a  cordial 
nature,  Mr.  Falconbridge." 

"  I  don't  regard  my  feeling  as  at  all  meritorious,  my  lord, 
I  should  be  more  than  a  heathen  were  I  not  to  love  the  old 
nurse  who  has  loved  me  so  faithfully.  I  would  see  to  her 
comfort  before  that  of  the  greatest  lady  in  the  province,  and 

9 


FAIBFAX;  Olt, 


would  rather  she  would  smile  en  me  than  have  his  Excel'* 
lency,  the  governor,  take  off  his  hat  to  me.  That  would 
seem  very  simple  to  you  if  you  knew  how  she  has  loved  and 
cherished  me." 

"I  can  understand/'  said  the  Earl,  with  the  same  melan- 
choly smile.  "You  are  a  perfect  democrat,  and  would 
rather  talk  with  some  old  *  Colonel '  on  Tide-water,  than 
with  the  greatest  Duke  of  England." 

"  You  are  laughing  at  me,  my  lord,"  said  Falconbridge. 
"What  would  a  Duke  take  the  trouble  to  talk  with  me 
for?" 

"  There  might  be  no  inequahty,"  returned  the  Earl.  "  1 
mean,  Mr.  Falconbridge,  that  in  England,  there  is  a  very 
absurd  mode  of  viewing  the  people  of  the  American  pro- 
vincos.  They  are  regarded  as  persons  of  an  inferior 
race,  which  is  simply  nonsense.  A  very  great  number  ol 
persons  in  the  Colonies  here,  are  either  descended  from  our 
nobility — the  sons  and  grandsons,  it  may  be,  of  "younger 
sons,"  but  of  course  no  less  inheriting  the  family  blood — or 
they  are  the  offshoots  of  that  "untitled  nobility,"  as  they 
have  been  called,  the  country  gentlemen  of  England.  This 
class,  sir,  is  after  all  the  real  strength  of  the  British  Empire* 
our  peerage  is  the  flower,  simply,  of  the  vigorous  plant. 
What  matter  if  a  coronet,  or  noble  order,  does  not  decorate 
these  men  ?  They  are  the  life-blood  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
body;  the  foremost  men  of  all  this  world,  as  Shakspeare 
writes  it;  and  the  time  may  come  when  our  exhausted  stem 
will  look  with  pride  upon  its  flourishing  offshoots,  growing 
in  the  soil  of  the  west.  Thus,  sir,"  added  the  Earl,  gravely, 
"I  may  now  have  the  honor  of  conversing  with  a  young 
nobleman  above  my  own  poor  rank;  one  who  is  such  by 
right  of  blood,  if  not  by  title." 

Falconoridge  laughed  as  he  listened  to  this  grave  state- 
ment. 

"I  am  afraid  you  flatter  me^  my  lord,"  ha  replied,  "w« 
ixe  only  gentlemen." 


THE  MA8TEB  OF  GBKENWAY  OOUBT.  iM 

*  Gentlemen  1"  returned  the  Earl,  only  gentlemen  ?  Yij 
dear  Mr.  Falconbridge,  you  will  find,  as  you  go  on  in  life, 
that  this  is  an  unphilosophical  phrase.  It  is  no  slight  task 
to  be  "only''  this.  It  is  better  to  be  a  gentleman  than  a 
lord— and  the  greatest  lord  can  be  no  more.  I  pray  thrt 
the  historian  of  my  Hfe,  if  I  shall  have  one,  may  give  me 
that  noble  title  only.  'Tis  my  sole  ambition,  sir,  I  crave  no 
more.  My  career  has  been  troubled  and  unhappy;  my  for- 
tune adverse.  I  am  growing  old  in  a  foreign  land — alone 
in  this  wilderness  after  Hving  at  the  finest  Courts  in  Europe 
— ^but  this  does  not  afflict  me  very  greatly,  'tis  a  matter  of 
small  importance.  If  my  'scutcheon  is  untarnished,  my 
name  free  from  all  stain,  I  shaU  think  myself  fortunate  and 
happy." 

There  was  something  so  noble  and  moving  in  the  melan- 
choly earnestness  of  the  speaker,  that  Falconbridge  uncon- 
sciously stretched  out  his  hand.  The  Earl  pressed  it  grave- 
ly, and  said  : 

"I  take  your  hand  as  'tis  ofiered,  sir — as  the  %and  of  an 
honest  gentleman — and  now,  sir,  I  will  no  longer  detain 
you  with  my  talk.  You  are  young  and  must  require  rest, 
and  I  too  am  weary  after  this  annoying  day,  in  whish  I  have 
filled  a  position  which  is  far  from  agreeable  to  me." 

"With  these  words  the  Earl  rang  his  little  bell,  which  wafe 
promptly  answered  by  the  appearance  of  the  old  body-ser- 
vant, and  with  grave  inclinations  the  two  men  separated. 

Ihe  Earl  sat  down  in  his  carved  chair,  as  the  door  closed, 
■nd  leaning  his  pale  face  upon  his  hand,  mused  long  and 
moodily.    At  last  he  rose  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  muttered  : 

"  The  eyes  and  lips  of  this  youth  have  a  singular  effect 
upon  me;  they  are  wonderfully  similar — wonderfully.  WeU, 
well,  I  have  arranged  an  idle  trap  for  him  yonder.  He 
must  see  it,  and  I  wiU  question  him.  Folly  I  folly  I  but 
what  is  life,  but  a  tissue  of  folly  ?" 

And  liord  Fairfax  slowly  left  the  apartment 


XXXVUL 

TEE  PORTBAIT. 

ALCONBRIDGE  found  a  cheerful  fire  burning  in 
the  wide  fire-place  of  his  sleeping  apartment,  foi 
the  November  nights  were  growing  cold,  and 
rendered  it  necessary. 
Old  John  saw  that  all  was  disposed  agreeably  for  his 
master's  guest,  and  then  respectfully  edging  toward  the 
door,  quietly  disappeared.  Falconbridge  was  left  alone, 
seated  in  front  of  the  fire,  into  which  he  gazed  long,  with 
thoughtful  eyes.  His  mind  had  been  filled  with  new  emo- 
tions lately;  his  Hfe  subjected  to  many  novel  influences. 
The  beautiful  woman,  the  melancholy  nobleman,  the  jovial 
Borderer,  the  wild  region,  into  which  he  had  been  so  gximly 
welcomed  by  the  Indian  assault;  all  these  personages  and 
objects  had  flooded  his  life  with  new  thoughts  and  feelings, 
and  were  now  the  subject  of  his  vague  reverie. 

From  time  to  time  a  smile  would  flit  over  the  handsome 
features  of  the  young  man;  and  then  a  fi'own  and  an  expres- 
sion of  pity  would  succeed.  Miss  Argal  was  the  origin  ol 
the  happy  smile,  the  strange  letter  of  the  mad  lover  who  had 
killed  himself,  caused  the  frown,  and  the  commiserating 
diadow. 

Falconbridge  mused  thus  for  more  than  an  hour,  taking 
no  notice  of  the  pattering  drops  which  fell  down  from  the 
wax  candle  on  the  silver  candlestick,  without  observing  that 
the  fire  was  dying  out,  and  that  the  dimly-lit  apartment  be- 
gan to  grow  chill,  as  well  as  to  assume  a  weird,  ghost-Uke 
appearance  in  the  flickering  light  of  the  single  candle.  Aa 
^  light  wavered  to  and  fro,  immense  shadows  chased  eaob 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAT  OOTTKn  191 


other  across  the  walls  and  the  ceiliug;  a  melancholy  "  death* 
watch  "  tapped  in  the  wainscotiiig;  and  a  bough  of  one  of 
the  trees  creaked  nervously  against  the  pane  of  the  window. 
A  fanciful  imagination  might  have  seen  shadowy  faces,  peer* 
ing  in  through  the  dim  panes,  or  fancied  that  goblin  fingew 
were  tugging  at  the  grating  bells  in  the  old  belfries. 

Falconbridge  heard  all  these  weird,  low  sounds,  but  did 
not  heed  them ;  he  pursued  his  reverie.  But  finally  his 
meditations  came  to  an  end;  he  banished  them  from  his 
mind,  and  drawing  a  long  breath,  rose  erect,  and  looked 
around  him.  As  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  picture  hanging  above 
the  mantelpiece,  he  almost  recoiled. 

It  represented  a  gentleman  of  about  twenty-five,  clad  in 
an  elegant  costume,  covered  with  embroidery.  The  white 
hand,  half  covered  with  lace,  was  thrust  into  the  scarlet 
waistcoat,  and  the  figure  was  erect  and  proud.  The  strange 
circumstance,  however,  which  impressed  the  young  man  so 
strongly,  was  the  startling  resemblance  which  the  portrait — 
for  such  it  plainly  was — ^bore  to  himself.  It  was  not  so 
much  a  resemblance,  as  a  perfect  copy  of  his  own  features. 
No  trait  was  different,  no  detail  wanting.  The  clear  eyes, 
large,  frank,  filled  with  smiling  pride;  the  clearly  defined 
hps,  expressing  equal  resolution  ani  good  humor;  the 
raised  head,  the  smooth  forehead,  the  brown  curling  hair, 
aU  was  identical  with  the  traits  of  the  real  man.  Had  the 
picture  descended  from  the  canvas  into  the  apartment,  and 
any  one  been  asked  which  was  Falconbridge,  which  the 
other,  he  would  have  found  it  impossible  to  decide. 

The  young  man's  astonishment  was  so  great  that  he  re- 
mained for  a  long  time  gazing  with  deep  wonder,  and  in 
silence  upon  the  picture.  Then  taking  the  candle  from  the 
table  he  held  it  above  his  head,  so  that  the  light  fell  in  a 
dear  stream  upon  the  portrait,  and  muttered  : 

"  Why,  that's  no  picture  ?    'Tis  my  other  self  I" 

He  sat  down  again,  but  could  not  remove  his  eyes  from 
lk«  strange  portraii    Could  it  possibly  have  hung  there, 


'198 


FAIRFAX ;  OR, 


when  he  occupied  the  room  before,  without  attracting  his 
attention?  He  could  not  believe  it.  Why,  then,  had  it 
been  hung  up  since?  Had  Lord  Fairfax  placed  it  there? 
"Was  it  intended  to  attract  his  notice?  Whose  could  it  be? 
What  original  sat  for  it?  It  was  plainly  no  recent  picture 
whence  did  it  come,  and  why  was  it  here  in  his  chamber, 
with  its  eyes  fixed  on  him  with  that  motionless  stare? 

The  young  man's  mind  was  filled  with  conflicting 
thoughts.  He  could  arrive  at  no  conclusion ;  the  strange 
picture  was  as  absolute  a  mystery  to  him  at  the  end  of  an 
hour,  as  when  his  eyes  first  fell  upon  it. 

It  was  not  until  the  old  clock  on  the  stairway  struck 
twelve^  slowly  and  solemnly,  that  Palconbridge,  finding  the 
apartment  grow  cold,  retired  to  sleep.  The  strange  copy 
of  himself  followed  him  in  his  dreams;  the  eyes  shone  on 
him  in  slumber,  as  when  awake. 

He  slept  uneasily,  and  started  more  than  once;  but  finally 
toward  daybreak  fell  into  a  sweet  and  soothing  slumber, 
which  was  undisturbed  by  the  haunting  eyes.  From  his 
murmured  words  and  smiles,  it  was  plain  that  the  young  man 
was  dreammg  of  his  home  in  the  Lowlands.  His  strange  past, 
the  stranger  picttLre,  the  hfe  around  him,  had  aU  disappeared: 
he  was  far  away  from  the  valley  and  the  mountains,  in  Lis 
own  land  again. 

When  he  woke,  and  saw  the  bright  sun  streaming  in,  he 
smiled  ana  welcomed  it.  Then  a  sudden  movement  proved 
that  he  recalled  the  night  before.  He  turned  his  head 
qmckly. 

There  w&s  the  picture. 


ME  MASTER  05*  GEEEKWAY  OOUBU 


190 


3LXXIX 

THE  QmM21V*  nvE  OF  CAPTA.IN  LONaKOTnL 

APTAllSi  ^^iGNEE  had  just  mounted  Injtu^" 
hater,  and  happy,  triumphant,  his  chin  in  th« 
ail',  was  about  to  set  out  from  the  Ordinary  for 
Greenway  Court,  when  all  at  once,  Falconbridge 
emerged  from  the  forest,  and  galloped  toward  him. 

He  rode  one  of  Fairfax's  horses,  whose  speed  he  had 
well  tested,  according  to  the  recommendation  of  the  Earl, 
and  in  the  bright  morning  sun  presented  a  very  attractive 
appearance. 

"Whither  bound,  comrade?"  said  the  Captaiti,  reining 
in  the  active  Injun  hater,  "you  come  on  like  a  thunder- 
bolt!" 

"I  am  a  very  harmless  one.  Captain/'  returned  Falcon- 
bridge,  "  and  the  Ordinary  is  my  mark" 
"  You  are  from  Greenway  ?" 
"Yes." 

"Any  news?" 

"  None  at  all;  his  lordship,  whom  I  left  a  short  time  ago, 
IB  quite  well.*' 

"  He  always  is  that,  or  the  devil  take  it  I  He  rides  over 
the  mcimtains  enough  to  make  anybody  well  and  strong. 
You  had  a  pleasant  time 

"  Very  pleasant." 

"And  a  sound  night's  rest,  doubtless?" 
"WeU,  yes — I  slept  well  enough;  but  a  strange  thing 
happened." 

"Strange?  What  was  that?  Did  you  have  any  mort 
MionBir 


too 


■'No,  Captain,  but  I  saw  myself.' 

"Saw  yourself?  Oh,  you  mean  you  were  guiltr  of  the 
vanity  of  looking  into  a  mirror,  of  which  there  ar©  not  so 
many  in  this  region.  Well,  companion,  when  one's  as  good 
looking  a  feUow  as  you  are,  that's  not  unnatural,  or  caay 
the  devil  take  it  I" 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  saw  myself  in  a  mirror — was  on 
canvas." 

"  On  canvas  1" 

"  Yes,  my  actual  self.  Captain  1" 

And  Falconbridge  described  the  portrait,  the  manner  is 
which  he  had  seen  it,  and  the  effect  which  it  had  produced 
upon  him. 

"  Strange  enough,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  and  did  yoq 
mention  it  to  his  lordship  ?" 

"  He  alluded  to  it  himself  at  breakfast,  and  asked  me  if  I 
had  slept  well  with  this  second  nocturnal  visitor — ^you  re- 
member the  firvt  ?" 

"Yes,  companion,  and  what  was  the  explanation  ?" 

"  A  very  simple  one.  His  lordship  had  placed  the  pic- 
ture there  as  an  agreeable  surprise  to  me.  It  was  the  por- 
trait of  a  friend  of  his  who  had  been  long  dead — and  my  re- 
semblance, he  said,  to  this  friend,  had  impressed  him,  upon 
our  very  first  meeting." 

"  Well,"  said  the  soldier,  "  all  that's  very  interesting  and 
striking.  I  never  saw  the  picture,  but  mean,  as  soon  as  I 
arrive,  to  go  up  stairs  and  look  at  it.  Did  you  arrange  your 
business  ?'* 

"In  half  an  hour.    I  need  not  have  come  from  the  Low 
trvntrj  hither." 
"  And  you  return  ?" 

"Well,  yes,  I  imagine  so.  Captain,"  said  Falconbridge 
with  some  hesitation,  "  before  very  long." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  Captain  Wagner's  apparently 
imfrindlj  reply.   "I  think  of  going  down  to  see  Qoooh 


THE  MASTER  OF  ORBENWAY  COURT,  SOl 


who,  Tm  told,  sails  for  England  in  the  spring,  and  we  mighl 
jog  along  together." 

"  Then  you  have  business  with  Governor  Gooch  ?*' 

"  Yes — ab®ut  my  lands." 

And  Captain  Wagner  gave  a  twist  to  his  moustache,  which 
made  that  decoration  stand  out  prominently  from  his  majv 
tial  countenance. 

"  I  own,  or  shall  very  soon  own,  my  dear  comrade,  some 
of  the  prettiest  pieces  of  ground  in  the  Virginia  valley.  I 
wiU  be  mysterious,  I  wiU  shirk  the  subject  for  the  present, 
but  I  have  said  what  I  have  said,"  added  the  soldier  in  a 
determined  voice,  as  though  some  opponent  disputed  his 
statement.  "  My  property  lies  in  and  around  the  town  of 
Winchester — a  noble  place,  Falconbridge,  the  pearl  of  the 
entire  universe.  It  is  my  intention  to  make  filooch  build  a 
fort  there,  appoint  me  commandant,  and  commission  me 
generalissimo  of  the  frontier." 

"  Oh !  really  ?   But  he  could  do  worse." 

"  Thank  you,  comrade — and  to  be  frank,  I  agree  with  yon. 
Once  commandant  of  an  armed  post,  let  me  hear  of  the  ras- 
cally Injuns  daring  to  set  foot  on  my  ground !  Let  me 
hear  that  any  of  the  copper-nosed  scoundrels  think  of  com- 
ing to  the  place  or  the  neighborhood !  I'll  march  on  'em, 
and  exterminate  'em  off  the  face  of  the  earth  I  I  will  make 
the  Opequon  and  Lost  Eiver  run  with  their  blood !  I  will 
choke  those  streams  with  their  miserable  carcasses,  as  I'm 
told  JuHus  Caesar  did  at  the  battle  of  Marathon  in  Africa! 
Ill  cut  'em  into  sHces,  and  fiy,  and  eat  'em  I  If  I  don't  I'm 
a  dandy,  Falconbridge !" 

With  which  words,  the  Captain  assumed  a  terriiBlc  frown, 
made  a  farewell  sign  to  his  companion,  and  setting  spur  to 
Injunhater,  went  on  toward  Greenway. 

Falconbridge  laughed,  and  dismounting,  gave  his  horse 
into  the  hands  of  an  ostler,  directing  him  to  lead  the  animal 
back  in  the  afternoon  to  Greenway.    Then  he  ordeared  hia 


202 


FAIKFAX;  OE, 


own  horse,  Sir  John,  to  be  saddled,  anu  was  ere  long  <mrtv 
ing  that  intelligent  quadruped,  with  a  joyous  hand. 

To  his  inquiries  regarding  the  wizard,  his  daughter,  and 
George,  Mrs.  Butterton  replied  that  all  three  persons  had 
Bet  out  some  hours  before  on  their  return  to  the  Fort  Moun- 
tain— George  riding  his  sorrel,  the  old  man  and  his  daugh- 
ter occupying  the  landlord's  sole  vehicle.  It  was  very  plain, 
added  the  dame,  that  Mr.  George  was  a  friend  of  theirs. 

Eeplying  to  this  significant  observation  with  a  smile  only 
and  saluting  the  lady  with  a  low  inclination,  FaIconbridg« 
oet  forward  at  a  round  pace,  for  iir,  Argal's. 

He  had  not  seen  Miss  Argal  for  almost  a  wholr  dajj. 


XHB  MABTEB  OF  QBEENWAy  OOTTBT. 


XL. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

T  was  only  a  few  days  after  these  scenes,  wfceia 
as  Falconbridge  arrived  one  morning  in  sight  o1 
Mr.  Argal's  he  saw,  afixed  to  the  drooping 
boughs  of  an  elm,  in  t}ie  midst  of  many  hounds, 
the  large  chestnut,  which  was  the  favorite-riding  horse  of 
Lord  Fairfax. 

As  the  young  man  entered  he  saw  the  Earl,  who  wore  Lia 
hunting  costume,  seated  near  I^ss  Argal,  and  engaged  in 
earnest  conversation  with  her.    Mr.  Argal  was  not  visible. 

The  young  lady  did  not  seem  overjoyed  at  Falconbridge'a 
appearance — ^indeed  her  greeting  was  rather  cool  than  warm. 
It  was  no  more  than  she  could  have  bestowed  upon  a  com- 
mon  acquaintance — and  although  the  nice  sense  of  delicacy 
possessed  by  Falconbridge  led  him  to  approve  of  this  re- 
serve in  the  abstract,  he  could  not  divest  himself  of  the  idea 
that  something  more  than  the  presence  of  a  third  person  ac- 
tuated the  young  lady  in  her  demeanor  toward  him. 

He  had  caught,  indeed,  as  he  entered,  one  of  tliose 
Btrangely  fascinating  glances  fixed  upon  Lord  Fairfax,  and 
the  circumstance,  trifling  as  it  was,  made  his  heart  sink  un- 
consciously. It  was  folly,  he  reflected,  to  expect  a  young 
lady,  because  she  had  plighted  her  word  to  one  gentleman^ 
to  assume  toward  all  others  an  air  of  coldness  and  indiifer- 
ence;  but  none  the  less  did  the  electric  smile  which  Miss 
/Lrgal  had  directed  toward  the  Earl  make  the  pulse  jf  Fal 
Oonbrid^  tlMTob  with  disquiet,  and  his  brow  contract 


204 


FAIEFAX;  JR, 


Lord  Fairfax  rose  courteously  and  greeted  the  yottng  mM 
^ith  grave  politeness. 

"  Give  you  good  day,  Mr.  Falconbridge/'  he  said;  **I  am 
glad  to  meet  you  again." 

*'  Many  thanks,  my  lord, — trust  you  are  weU.** 

"  Perfectly,  sir.  I  am  always  well  when  I  move  about^  at 
I  have  been  doing  now  since  daybreak." 

"  You  have  been  hunting,  I  imagine,  from  your  dress." 

"  Yes,  all  the  morning.  I  had  a  chase  after  a  deer,  but 
made  nothing  of  it.  It  led  me  some  miles  to  the  west,  and 
I  stopped  here  to  see  Mr.  Argal  and  his  family.  I  believe 
they  are  friends  of  yoijirs,  are  they  not,  sir  ?" 

"Oh  yes — is  not  that  true,  IVIiss  Bertha?"  said  Falcon- 
bridge,  smiling. 

"  Certainly,  sir,  we  are  friends,"  was  the  young  lady's  re- 
ply. But  the  expression  of  the  face  seemed  to  say,  ^'  that  iB 
all  " — in  her  voice  there  was  something  strange  and  inde- 
scribable; but  its  tones  were  plainly  altered. 

The  quick  ear  of  Falconbridge,  sharpened  and  rendered 
nervously  acute  by  the  depth  of  his  infatuation,  did  not  fail 
to  mark  the  change.  The  furrow  in  his  brow  became  deep- 
er, and  he  fixed  upon  the  young  lady  one  of  those  clear  and 
searching  glances  which  aim  at  reading  the  thoughts  of 
those  who  are  the  objects  of  them. 

The  tone  in  which  Miss  Argal  had  spoken  was  either  ac- 
cidental, or  she  thought  that  she  had  gone  too  far.  The  in- 
different, almost  cold  expression  disappeared  from  her  eyas 
— the  beautiful  face  broke  into  smiles,  and  holding  out  her 
hand,  she  said: 

"  Fiiends  should  treat  each  other  more  kindly  than  you 
do  us,  Mr.  Falconbridge — I  have  not  seen  you  for  a  very 
long  while!" 

And  with  this  ambiguous  speech,  which  ccmveyed  the  idea 
to  Lord  Fairffix  that  the  young  man  had  not  called  for  a 
month — but  to  him,  the  meiming  that  twenty  four  hours  watt  a 
^  very  long  while"  for  him  vO  be  away  from  her, — ^the  young 


THB  MASTER   OF  GREENWAl  JOURR 


305 


Iftdy  bestowed  upon  Falconbridge  a  new  edition  of  the 
glance  at  the  Earl  which  he  had  intercepted  on  liia  en- 
trance. 

**At  your  age,  Mr.  Falconbridge,  said  the  Earl,  with  hia 
weaiy  smUe,  "  I  would  have  made  many  \isits  to  Mr.  Argjil'a 
here,  especially  if  I  were  detained,  as  I  believe  you  are,  sir, 
at  that  dull  old  Ordinary  yonder.  Pray  leave  it,  and  come 
and  stay  at  Greenway  Court  as  long  as  your  affairs  engage 
you  in  the  region.  It  is  really  inhospitable  in  me  to  permit 
a  gentleman  Uke  yourself  to  thus  tarry  at  a  roadside  tavern, 
«o  near  my  house." 

Falconbridge  inclined  his  head  courteously  and  replied: 

"  Many  thanks  to  your  lordship.  But  I  shall  soon  return 
now — have  been  away  too  long  ah-eady  from  home." 

"  Ah,  that  need  not  draw  you,  I  fancy,"  said  the  Earl, 
smiling;  "  when  a  young  seigneur  goes  on  his  travels  in  Eu- 
rope, we  are  accustomed  to  give  him  the  length  of  his  teth- 
er. 

The  young  man  smiled  in  return,  and  shaking  his  head 
rephed  : 

"  That  may  be  true  of  young  seigneui's,  as  you  say,  my 
lord,  but  I  am  not  such  a  person.  My  father  is  in  strait- 
ened circumstances,  although  we  live  weU— requii^es  my  as- 
sistance, and  I  must  go  back  soon. 

The  Earl  gravely  inclined  his  head,  and  then  turning  to 
the  young  lady,  said: 

"  Do  you  expect  your  father  to  return  this  morning.  Miss 
Argal?  I  now  remember  that  he  desires  to  consult  me  up- 
on some  land  business,  and  my  visit  may  save  him  trouble." 

"  Tes,  he  will  soon  retui-n,  my  lord,"  was  the  reply;  **  I 
am  sure  he  will  not  stay  long." 

"  I  will  wait  then,  madam." 

And  the  Earl  resumed  the  chair  from  which  he  had  hall 
risen.  He  did  not  look  at  Falconbridge.  The  expression 
of  the  young  man's  countenaDce  would  have  surj^rised  him. 
He  was  gazing  at  Miss  Argal  with  unaffected  astonishmeni 


ao6 


fAiRiAX  cm, 


—and  he  had  abundant  reason  for  doing  so.  Mr.  Argal  had 
announced  in  his  presence,  on  the  evening  before,  that  busi- 
ness of  importance  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  go  into 
Maryland,  and  had  begged  the  young  man  to  be  as  much 
with  his  daughter  as  he  found  it  convenient — it  would  re- 
lieve his  mind.  He  had  gone  on  the  journey,  which  would 
occupy  two  or  three  days,  at  least — and  now  Falconbridge 
heard  the  assurance  given  to  Lord  Fairfax  by  his  hostess, 
that  her  father  would  "  soon  return,''  that  he  "  would  not 
stay  long  " — as  though  he  had  ridden  out  for  an  hour  simply. 

We  shall  do  Miss  Argal  the  justice  to  say,  that  no  sooner 
had  she  uttered  the  words,  than  she  blushed  and  seemed  to 
regret  them.  She  darted  a  rapid  glance  at  Falconbridge, 
played  with  the  ribbon  at  her  belt,  turned  carelessly  a  hand- 
some bracelet  on  her  snowy  arm — and  ended  by  winding 
around  her  finger  with  graceful  indifference  one  of  the  pro- 
fuse curls  of  her  raven  hair. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  looked  out  of  the  window 
and  said: 

"  Perhaps  I  have  unintentionally  misled  you,  my  lord.  I 
now  remember  that  my  father  has  ridden  to  some  distance, 
and  may  not  return  so  soon.  If  your  lordship,  however, 
will  remain  until  the  evening,  I  shall  esteem  it  a  favor.  The 
neighborhood  is  very  lonely." 

"  I  regret  that  'tis  impossible,  Miss  Argal.  I  promised  to 
leave  a  deed  which  I  have  in  my  pocket,  for  a  new  settler  in 
the  region,  who  will  call  for  it.  If  my  body-servant  were 
with  me,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  when  I  hunt,  I  might 
comply  with  your  most  obhging  request." 

The  young  lady  turned  the  bracelet  round  again  on  the 
white  arm,  beat  the  floor  with  her  foot,  and  then  said: 

"  Our  servants  are  all  away;  but  Mr.  Falconbridge  might 
kake  it  for  you,  my  lord.    He  might  then  return  *  

The  mark  was  overshot.  Lord  Fairfax  greeted  fche  pro- 
position with  an  unmistakable  stare  of  astonishment.  As  to 
Ff^oonbridge,  his  face  turned  orimson^  and  from  his  eyes 


TEE  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAT 


darted  one  of  those  flashes  which  at  timeR  indicated  hoif 
dangerous  he  was  when  aroused. 

"  That  is — I  mean  " — said  Miss  Argal,  with  some  agitation* 
"  I  meant  that  your  lordship  might  be  worn  out  with  fa- 
tigue— you  might  be  gTeatly  in  need  of  rest — and  as  all  ouj 
servants  are  in  the  woods,  I  thought  I  might  treat  Mr.  Fal- 
conbridge,  as  a  friend, — without  ceremony.  If  I  have  of-^ 
fended  you,  pray  pardon  me,"  added  the  young  lady,  fixing 
upon  the  young  man  her  saddest  and  most  beseeching 
glance.  I  am  very  young  and  inexperienced — I  did  not 
think — if  I  have  shocked  you  "  

And  turning  away  her  head,  Miss  Argal  seemed  overcome 
with  emotion. 

The  young  man  no  longer  betrayed  any  anger.  There  was 
nothing  but  sadness  now  in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  reply 
for  an  instant;  when  he  did  speak,  it  was  only  to  say: 

"  I  freely  pardon  any  apparent  slight,  Miss  Argal — I  am 
sure  you  did  not  mean  any — as  I  am  sure  that  his  lordship 
feels  that  I  would  willingly  spare  him  fatigue  were  he  gxeatly 
exhausted." 

"  No,  no,  sir,"  said  the  Earl  with  a  low  inclination,  "  by 
no  means*    I  am  quite  rested,  and  feel  as  fi*esh  as  possible." 

"  But  you  think  my  conduct  unbecoming,  my  lord,"  mur- 
mured the  yoimg  lady,  "to  treat  Mr.  Falconbridge  with 
Buch  rudeness  and  want  of  ceremony — I  fear  you  regard  me 
as  thoughtless  and  ill-bred — pray  Mr.  Falconbridge  will 
pardon  me !" 

The  cloud  disappeared  from  the  brow  of  the  Earl.  That 
voice  of  subtle  and  wonderful  melody  dissipated  all  the  dis- 
pleasure which  he  had  felt.  Indeed  ho  seemed  fully  under 
the  spell  of  her  beauty,  and  had  more  than  once  displayed 
during  the  progress  of  their  interview  that  admiration  which 
he  had  conceived  for  her  on  the  first  day  of  their  meeting, — 
and  which  lingering  unknown  to  him,  in  the  depths  of  hia 
nature,  had  come  at  last  to  be  something  more  than  a  Tagne 
•entimeiit  of  pleasure  in  her  society. 


ao8 


FAIRFAX  ;  OB, 


As  she  spoke  now,  or  rather  murmtired  in  her  low  iweel 
voice  those  words,  "  I  pray  Mr.  Falconbridge  will  jardon 
me  all  traces  of  displeasure  disappeared,  as  we  have  said, 
from  his  conntenance,  and  the  cold  swarthy  face  almost 
glowed: — that  dark  eye  shone  strangely. 

"My  dear  Miss  Argal,"  he  said  with  something  approach- 
ing feeling,  "  I  pray  you  do  not  think  so  very  seriously  of  a 
ferifle— I  am  sure  T^Ir.  Falconbridge  so  regards  it.  'Twaa 
nothing, — mere  thoughtlessness  I  am  sure.  And  now  T  am 
constrained  to  leave  you.  Pray  present  my  regards  to  youy 
father  on  his  return,  and  him  to  call  on  me  at  my  housfiu 
I  need  iiot  say  that  I  shall  feel  honored  should  you  choose 
to  accompany  him — at  any  time." 

With  these  words,  Lord  Fairfax  bowed  low,  and  left  the 
apartment.  Falconbridge  followed  hitn  to  the  door,  declar- 
ing his  intention  to  remain.  No  sooner  had  the  two  men 
disappeared  than  the  sad  and  submissive  expression  vanish- 
ed from  Miss  Argal's  face,  her  head  rose  erect,  her  brows 
contracted  furiously,  and  she  imprisoned  her  red  underUp 
between  the  white  teeth, — so  unmistakable  was  the  fire  ol 
anger  in  her  eyes. 

"When  Falconbridge  returned,  in  five  minutes  after  bid  ding 
the  Earl  farewell,  he  found  the  young  lady  in  the  position  in 
which  he  had  left  her — ^leaning  sadly  on  the  arm  of  her  chair, 
and  presenting  the  image  of  a  statue  of  sad  sweetness  and 
regret 

He  had  never  loved  her  more  than  at  th%t  moment 


tBX  ICASTEB  OF  GREENWAT  OCOBT. 


AM 


XLL 

PBOGBESS. 

WO  days  after  Mr.  Argal's  return,  he  set  out  toi 

Greenway  Court,  accompanied  by  his  daughter, 
who  had  delivered  the  Earl's  message,  and  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  "  breathe  a  Httle  fresh  air." 
Her  father  had  readily  acquiesced  in  this  proposal,  and 
mounting  their  horses — Mr.  Argal  his  stout  cab,  and  his 
daughter  her  slender-legged  filly — they  were  soon  upon  the 
road.  There  were  two  routes  to  Greenway  Court.  One  led 
by  the  Ordinary;  another  branching  to  the  right,  and  fol- 
lowing a  mere  bridle  path,  wound  over  the  prairie,  and  ap- 
proached the  house  on  a  different  side. 

In  compliance  with  the  request  of  the  young  lady,  who  said 
she  was  heartily  tired  of  the  common  road,  they  pursued 
this  latter,  and  very  soon  arrived  at  the  Earl's. 

He  met  them  at  the  door,  and  exhibited  a  satisfaction 
upon  seeing  Miss  Argal,  very  unusual  with  one  who  seemed 
hard  to  arouse  or  interest.  He  assisted  the  young  lady 
from  her  animal,  gave  her  his  arm,  and  led  her  into  the 
mansion  with  grave  courtesy.  Mr.  Argal  followed,  and 
they  were,  aU  three,  seated  ere  long  before  the  crackling 
fire  of  hght  sticks,  which  was  far  from  unpleasant. 

Whilst  her  father  and  the  Earl  were  engaged  in  discuss- 
ing the  business  matteis  which  were  the  occasion  of  the 
visit,  Miss  Argal  amused  herself  looking  over  the  book- 
shelves;  and  finally  bore  away  a  volume  of  the  "  Spectator," 
in  which  she  very  soon  seemed  to  become  absorbed.  She 
presented  a  fascinating  picture  as  she  sat  by  the  winds?w 
poring  over  the  book.    One  of  her  plump,  white  arms,  frozs^ 


aio 


VAIEFAX;  OB, 


which  the  wide  sleeve  had  fallen  back,  sustained  her  hmi 
head,  the  elbow  resting  on  the  window-sill,  the  rounded 
wrist,  adorned  with  its  fine  bracelet,  half  buried  in  the  pro- 
fuse cui'ls  of  her  ebon  hair.  Her  full,  but  graceful  figure^ 
was  inclined  forward,  and  her  black  eyes  were  nearly  con- 
cealed by  the  long,  dark  lashes,  almost  resting  on  the  rosy 
cheek 

She  was  still  poring  over  the  volume,  when  a  grave  and 

courteous  voice  said  behind  her  : 

"Pray  what  have  you  there,  Miss  Argal — a  romance  from 
my  collection  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  my  lord,  I  never  could  read  romances,"  was  the 
smiling  reply;  "it  is  a  volume  of  Mr.  Addison's  'Spect&- 
tor,*  which  I  admire  very  much." 

"  And  I  also,  madam,"  replied  the  EarL  "He  is  a  writer 
of  rai-e  wit  and  humor." 

"  Oh,  he  certainly  is  I" 

"  Pray  what  paper  did  you  open  at — ^his  attack  on  the 
ladies,  and  their  fashions?  It  created  a  great  talk,  I  re- 
member, at  the  time." 

"  So  I  suppose,  my  lord;  but  I  was  not  reading  that.  I 
was  interested  very  much  in  this  paper." 

And  she  held  up  the  book  with  her  fascinating  smile. 
The  E::.rl  looked  at  it.  The  paper  was  one  which  he  had 
contributed  to  the  "  Spectator  "  in  his  youth. 

"I  have  heard  that  Mr.  Addison  and  Mr.  Steele  wrote 
together,"  said  Miss  Argal;  "can  your  lordship  tell  me 
which  of  them  wrote  this  ?  It  is  so  elegantly  composed — so 
delightful !" 

The  Earl  smiled.  He  had  prided  himself  much  on  hia 
literary  reputation,  and  the  old  leaven  of  a  former  vanity 
had  not  spent  its  strength. 

"I  am  almost  ashamed  to  reply  after  such  high  com- 
mendation, madam,"  he  said;  "but  truth  renders  it  nece»« 
aary  for  me  to  say  that  I  am  myself  the  author  of  that 
number.*' 


THK  ICASTKR  OF  GEEEKWAY  XXTBTL  911 


"  Ton,  my  lord  1  Have  you  ever  written  for  tlie  prin 
tersr 

The  Earl  Biniled  again:  there  was  something  singularly 
delightful  to  him  in  the  young  lady's  admiration  and  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  say  yes,"  he  answered.  "  I  knew  Air. 
Addison,  and  esteemed  him  highly  ;  and  rather  received, 
than  conferred  a  favor  by  having  a  place  in  the  "  Spectator." 
Indeed,  the  man  hiniseli  was  of  such  conspicuous  gifts,  that 
the  greatest  noblemen,  much  more  my  poor  self,  were  hon- 
ored by  his  friendship  and  conversation.  He  Hved  but 
simply  when  I  knew  him  first,  and  dressed  very  meanly: 
but  you  forgot  what  he  wore,  and  the  poor  apartment  he 
occupied,  when  his  calm,  clear  voice  began.  He  would 
smoke  his  pipe  and  converse  for  hours,  and  I  still  recall  his 
snule,  with  its  extraordinary  sweetness  and  serenity,  as 
though  his  thoughts  w  ere  fixed  upon  some  dehghtful  recol- 
lection, or  unseen  spirits  were  whispering  to  him.  All  who 
knew  him  admired  and  loved  him;  I  was  honored  by  his 
friendship.  He  was  a  very  great  man;  I  am  not — that  ex- 
plains all,  madam." 

"And  you  wrote  this  beautiful  paper  ?"  said  Miss  Arggd, 
with  a  contemplative  aii*,  "  this  paper  I  was  reading  with 
BO  much  interest  ?" 

"  1  believe  so.  And  I  think  you  will  find  my  name  afl^ed 
at  the  end." 

The  young  lady  tui*ned  the  leaf,  and  said,  innocently  : 

"  Why  here  it  is,  sure  enough  1  '  Thomas,  Lord  FairfajL 
I  ought  to  have  looked." 

Had  she  looked  ?  Yes.  The  connection  of  the  Earl  with 
the  "Spectator"  had  been  known  to  her,  and  she  had  sought 
for  and  found,  and  commenced  reading  the  number  marked 
with  his  name. 

After  some  more  convex sation  on  literature,  the  book  was 
replace  on  the  shelf,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  saToxy 


212 


FAIRFAX  OR, 


odor  invaded  the  apartment.    The  dinner  hour  Qad  arrived, 

and  with  a  little  urging  Mr.  Argal  remained. 

Dinner  was  served  after  the  EngHsh  fashion,  in  courses, 
and  the  three  persons  remained  at  table  until  the  sun  began 
to  stream  through  the  western  window.  Miss  irgal  had 
summoned  all  her  wonderful  powers  to  attract  the  admiring 
attention  of  the  Earl,  and  she  had  succeeded.  She  had 
commenced  by  flattering  his  vanity;  she  ended  by  impress- 
ing upon  him  the  fact  that  she  regarded  him  with  a  mixture 
of  respect  and  affection,  which  she  struggled  against,  but 
could  not  overcome.  The  conversation  had  tuimed  upoii 
marriage  and  the  philosophy  of  that  relation;  and  the  young 
lady,  in  the  most  casual  and  unintentional  way,  had  declared 
that  for  her  part,  she  never  could  understand  the  taste  of  wo- 
men for  "  mere  boys."  Young  men  were  no  favorites  of  hers. 
They  were  so  terribly  vain,  and  prided  themselves  so  much 
upon  their  youth  and  beauty;  they  seemed  to  bestow  their 
affection  as  a  sort  of  favor  on  the  ladies,  and,  indeed,  she 
never  coidd  bear  them,  the  vain  creatures!  If  she  ever 
thought  of  marrying,  she  would  select  some  one  else.  It 
should  be  a  serious  person;  no  matter  if  he  had  reached  or 
even  passed  middle  age.  She  would  be  sure  at  least  of  hia 
love,  and  could  rely  upon  his  judgment  and  his  protection. 
She  would  rather  a  thousand  times  trust  her  happiness  to 
such  a  one,  than  to  a  giddy-pated  youth,  however  handsome 
he  might  be. 

AU  this  was  uttered  by  Miss  Ai'gal  in  the  most  innocent 
and  careless  way:  the  mere  outpouring,  it  appeared,  of  her 
confiding  disposition.  And  it  thriUed  the  cold  heart  of  the 
weary  exile  with  a  new  and  delightful  emotion.  His  vanity 
was  soothed  and  flattered — his  admiration  was  excited  by 
the  lovely  speaker — his  ears  drank  in  the  music  of  her  voice, 
and  his  eyes  dwelt  with  unacousiomed  intensity  upon  hei 
countenance,  so  instinct  with  beauty  and  fascination. 

When,  very  soon  after  dinner,  Mr.  Argal  declared  the 
D6C6B8ity  of  his  departure,  the  Earl  pressed  him  warmly  tc 


rem  icastkb  of  (ntBsimAT  coubk  MS 


Mmftin>  The  young  lady,  aa  before,  discovered  that  she 
was  laboiiag  under  a  cough,  but  this  only  hurried  her  de- 
parture. Mr,  Argal  thanked  his  lordfehip,  but  said  that  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  return  that  evening. 
Ajid  so  the  horses  were  brought  up,  and  the  Earl  assisted 
the  young  lady  to  her  seat  in  the  saddle. 

Did  her  ungloved  hand  retain  his  own,  as  it  had  retained 
Palconbridge's  on  that  evening  of  their  first  meeting  ?  Was 
the  sUght  but  clearly  perceptible  pressure  intentional  ? 

The  Earl  stood  on  the  porch  and  watched  them  until  they 
were  out  of  sight;  the  languishing  smile  of  IVIiss  Argal  as 
she  departed,  still  before  him.  As  he  turned  finally,  and 
re-entered  the  house,  he  muttered  : 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  beauty  as  superb,  or  a  more  brilliant 
mind!  Let  me  beware  1  Love  a  woman  again?  It  would 
be  monstrous !" 

But  all  the  evening  he  was  thinking  of  her. 


81i  FAIBFAX;  OB, 


£LIL 

IH  THE  MOUNTAIN, 

?ALP  an  hour  after  the  departure  of  Mr.  Arga] 

and  his  daughter  for  Greenway  Court,  Falcon- 
bridge  drew  up  before  the  house,  and  leaping 
from  his  horse,  entered  the  mansion,  smiling  and 
joyfiiL 

Hjs  love  for  the  young  lady  had  reached  that  point  now, 
that  out  of  her  presence  he  scarcely  Hved.  His  life  was 
concentrated  into  those  hours  of  each  day  when  he  sat  by 
her,  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  All  the  rest  was  a  dull,  cold 
blank  to  him,  with  no  pleasure  in  it  all.  He  existed,  simply, 
there  at  the  Ordinary,  and  passed  all  his  moments  in  mus- 
ing upon  the  interview  which  had  passed  by,  or  on  the  one 
which  was  to  occur  again  on  the  morrow.  As  he  mounted 
his  horse  to  go  away,  his  form  would  droop,  his  eyes  be- 
come gloomy — when  he  put  spur  to  Sir  John,  to  go  and 
see  her,  he  was  the  picture  of  buoyant  joy  and  light-heart- 
edness. 

These  words  will  explain  the  emotion  of  the  young  man, 
when  one  of  the  servants  informed  him  that  Miss  Argal  had 
departed,  and  above  all,  departed  for  "Lord  Fairfax's." 

As  the  words  were  uttered,  he  felt  a  dizziness,  a  sudden 
Binking  of  the  heart.  Lord  Fairfax's!  She  had  gone  to 
Greenway  Court  I  All  the  scene,  when  that  morning  she 
had  insulted  him  so  carelessly,  rushed  back;  he  remembered 
the  whole  interview;  he  saw  her  glances,  her  wiles,  her 
witcheries  to  attract  hip  lordship.  For  a  moment,  then,  he 
stood  still  and  gazed  at  the  servant  with  an  expression 
which  almost  frightened  her. 


THE  MASTBE  OF  GREEIfWAT  COUBT. 


216 


It  was  for  a  moment  only.  His  presence  of  mind  re- 
turned, and  simply  requesting  her  to  inform  Miss  Argal  of 
his  visit,  on  her  return,  he  issued  forth  and  mounted  his 
horse  again. 

Should  he  go  thither?  Yes!  He  would  go  and  be  a 
witness  of  what  he  felt  was  the  scene  at  Greenway — a  wit- 
ness of  her  smiles  and  cajoleries,  and  fascinations,  aimed  at 
the  Earl — ^he  w  ould  go  and  sup  full  upon  his  jealousy  and 
resentment ! 

And  digging  the  spur  into  the  side  of  Sir  John,  he  set 
forward  like  lightning  upon  the  road  to  Greenway. 

A  mile  from  Mr.  ArgaFs  he  suddenly  drew  rein,  so  sud- 
denly that  Sir  John  reared  and  almost  fell  upon  his 
haunches.  Was  it  advisable  to  go  there  ?  Would  she  rel- 
ish this  persistent  pursuit  of  her — this  jealous  supervision, 
as  though  he  suspected  hei  fidelity  to  him?  Was  it  worth 
while  to  go  and  suffer,  and  get  no  thanks,  rather  coldness 
for  it?  No  1  He  would  return  to  his  lonely  chamber  and 
see  no  one. 

And  he  turned  his  horse^s  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
Ordinary,  going  along  now  very  slowly,  his  head  drooping, 
his  brow  overshadowed. 

"No,  no,''  he  murmured,  "no,  I  cannot  go  back  there. 
Mrs.  Butterton  would  annoy  me  with  her  wearying  conver- 
sation— need  movement,  fresh  air." 

With  these  words  he  stopped  and  looked  round.  The 
Fort  Mountain  raised  its  great  ramparts  and  seemed  to 
beckon  him;  the  prairie,  swept  by  the  wind,  whispered  to 
him.  He  had  met  George  in  the  morning,  at  the  Ordinary, 
on  his  way  to  the  "  Fort,"  and  now  remembering  the  fact^ 
directed  his  coui'se  straight  toward  it. 

He  at  last  reached  the  river;  pushed  b»s  horse  through 
the  current,  and  skii-ting  the  noih^y  Passage  Creek,  ascended 
the  winding  bridle-path  toward  the  cottage  of  the  wizard. 

As  he  went  onward  many  wild  sights  and  sounds  greeted 
kim,  and  diaoipated,  in  a  measure,  his  possessing  thou^'hts 


116 


fASBfJiJil  0% 


A  great  eagle  rose,  with  slow,  flapping  wings,  from  a  6tA^ 
near  at  hand,  and  swej)t  av/ay  into  the  opposite  mountain: 
a  stag  flitted  across  a  distant  opening,  and  disappeared, 
more  than  once  he  heard  in  the  tangled  thicket  near  at 
hand,  the  stealthy  tread  of  a  panther  or  a  bear,  crackling 
OTer  the  dry  twigs,  and  rustling  the  dead  leaves  of  the 
forest.  He  went  on  without  heeding  these  things,  however^ 
and  soon  reached  the  steep  knoll  upon  which  the  wizard's 
cottage  was  situated.  As  he  arrived  at  this  point,  he  all  at 
once  saw,  in  the  porch  of  the  house,  a  pleasant  little  inistio 
picture. 

On  one  of  the  benches  a  young  girl  was  seated,  graceful 
and  smiling;  and  her  smiles  seemed  to  be  occasioned  by 
the  attempt  which  a  young  man,  occupying  a  lower  seat  at 
her  feet,  was  making  to  place  a  wreath  of  pale  primroses  on 
her  forehead. 

Beside  them  was  stretched,  indolently  sleeping,  a  huge 
black  bear,  to  whose  presence  no  attention  at  all  seemed  to 
be  paid. 

Cannie  and  George  were  so  much  interested  in  their  oc- 
cupation that  they  did  not  hear  the  foot-falls  of  the  horse, 
and  it  was  not  until  Falconbridge  had  tied  Sir  John  to  a 
bough,  and  ascended  the  decHvity  on  foot,  that  they  became 
aware  of  his  presence. 

The  bear  rose  with  a  growl,  and  exhibited  a  ferocious 
mouth  filled  with  white,  sharp  teeth,  but  at  a  word  from 
the  young  girl,  accompanied  by  a  warning  tap  on  his  head 
from  her  httle  hand,  lay  down  quietly  again,  and  dozed 
serenely. 

The  boy  and  the  girl  welcomed  Falconbridge  with  the 
warmest  cordiaUty,  and  Cannie,  with  a  smile,  informed  him 
that  he  need  fear  nothing  from  "Brum,''  who  was  a  long 
tried  friend  and  pet,  and  quite  harmless.  With  these  words 
«he  pushed  the  animal  with  her  small  foot,  and  bade  him 
moTC    Bruin  acquiesced  with  perfect  good  humor,  and  rb- 


THS  1CA8TBB  OF  GBEENWAT  COUST.  S17 


Ing  lazily,  waddled  off  to  a  sunny  knoll,  and  lying  dovro^ 
speedily  went  to  sleep  again. 

Cannie,  meanwhile,  had  entered  the  house,  and  an- 
nounced the  visit  of  Falconbridge  to  her  grandfather,  who 
soon  came  forth  and  welcomed  him.  They  were  still  ex- 
changing courteous  expressions,  and  the  young  man  waa 
looking  with  great  interest  at  Cannie,  when  another  inci- 
dent occurred.  A  sudden  fluttering  in  the  air  attracted 
their  attention — a  suppressed  croak  was  heard — and  an 
immense  hawk,  with  an  arrow  through  his  wing,  fell  almost 
at  the  young  man's  feet. 

"Why,  Lightfoot  is  here  1"  said  Cannie;  "he  has  shot  the 
hawk  that  was  after  my  pigeons 

"Who  is  Lightfoot?"  asked  Falconbridge,  whose  gloom 
began  to  yield  before  the  innocent  smiles  of  the  girl ;  "  an- 
other friend,  like  the  bear?" 

"  Oh,  no  sir  1  he  is  an  Indian.  He  is  a  true  friend,  how- 
ever. He  once  saved  my  life,  and  we  love  him,  even  George. 
There  he  comes — ^he  has  been  to  see  us  twice  lately — h« 
lives  in  the  mountain." 

As  Cannie  spoke,  the  young  Indian  was  seen  approaching 
down  the  abrupt,  almost  precipitous  path  which  led  up- 
ward to  the  summit.  From  the  tall  mass  of  rock  above,  he 
had  seen  and  transfixed  the  hawk,  and  now  came  to  pick 
it  up.  He  was  welcomed  with  great  affection  by  Cannie, 
and  when  she  pointed  to  Falconbridge,  and  said  :  "  This  is 
another  good  friend,  Lightfoot,"  the  Indian  stretched  out 
his  arm,  and  shook  hands,  as  he  had  learned  to  do,  with  a 
grave  dignity  and  courtesy  which  might  have  graced  an 
amperor  ^ 


118  V AIM  ax;  OB, 


xmL 

flow  AN  Ammj4  oaxsajsx)  the  destines  o?  thbxb  mjUAX  bs* 

INGS. 

BEE  day  was  spent  happily  by  alL  That  confi- 
dence which  soon  springs  up  between  persons  of 
sincere  and  truthful  natures,  made  the  hours 
glide  away  without  constraint  or  ceremony. 
The  Indian  and  Falconbridge  were  not  regarded  in  the 
light  of  strangers  by  the  old  man  or  his  daughter;  and  as 
to  George,  we  already  know  that  he  was  on  a  footing  of  the 
most  perfect  famiharity  and  friendship.  As  they  sat  on 
the  little  porch,  and  looked  forth  on  the  beautiful  scene  of 
the  forest  and  mountain,  dancing  streamlet  and  moss-clad 
rocks,  a  cheerful  and  inspiring  influence  seemed  to  fill  every 
bosom,  and  Falconbridge  was  no  exception.  The  shadows' 
which  had  lain  upon  his  brow  slowly  passed  away.  His  equa- 
nimity returned.  From  the  little  mountain  cottage,  nestling 
in  a  gash  of  the  great  lofty  range,  he  looked  down  as  it 
were  upon  the  events  of  the  morning,  there  in  the  Lowland, 
and  regarded  them  in  a  different  and  more  hopeful  light. 

Had  he  not  suffered  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  a  mere 
rush  of  jealous  and  irrational  suspicion — by  a  fit  of  angry 
disappointment  at  not  meeting  the  young  lady  ?  What  rea- 
son was  there  to  find  fault  with  her  for  accompanying  her 
father  on  a  ride  across  the  prairie,  when  he  doubtless  had 
Bome  business  matters  to  transact  with  Lord  Fairfax? 
Could  he  blame  her — ^was  there  any,  the  least,  ground  for 
complaint  or  dissatisfaction  ?  Indeed,  ought  he  not  to  feel 
some  shame  at  having  charged  hor  with  unv9orthy  motirea 
•▼en  iiK  his  imagination? 


THE  MASTEK  OF  GBEENWAY  COUBT. 


219 


Wben  his  reflections  brought  him  to  this  point,  the  whole 
•natter  was  ended.  A  noble  nature  always  suffers  deeply 
from  the  consciousness  that  it  has  committed  an  injustice  ; 
with  such  the  recoil  is  always  powerful;  the  longing  to 
make  amends  is  irresistible.  Falconbridge  determined  to  be, 
in  future,  more  kind  and  unsuspicious  than  he  had  ever  been 
before  ! — and  thus  having  banished  his  absorbing  thought, 
he  became  cheerful  and  even  joyous  again. 

Every  object  around  him  increased  this  sentiment.  The 
fresh  bracing  air  caressed  his  cheeks  -^  ad  forehead,  and  filled 
his  pulses  with  buoyant  life.  He  inhaled  it  with  delight,  and 
felt  the  last  traces  of  his  gloomy  thought  disappear.  His  com- 
panions were  not  unsuited  to  the  scenes,  nor  to  his  change  ol 
mood — Cannie  looked  up  into  his  face  with  her  bright  smile, 
her  tender  eyes,  and  air  of  confiding  affection.  She  had  not 
forgotten  how  he  came  to  the  side  of  her  grandfather  on  the 
day  of  the  trial,  and  greeted  him  in  his  sincere  voice,  fuD  of 
sympathy  and  kindness — how  he  had  held  his  hand  oat 
to  herself,  and  said  she  was  a  little  countess,  and  a  good 
daughter.  She  had  recalled  his  tones  and  looks  and  words, 
on  her  return,  with  strange  pleasure;  and  now  met  him  as 
a  friend  whom  she  had  knov/ n  and  loved.  And  Falconbridge 
derived  no  less  pleasure  from  the  countenance  of  Cannie. 
He  thought  many  times  during  the  day  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  clear  eyes  and  innocent  lips  strangely  familiar 
— ^he  seemed  to  have  met  with  the  girl  far  away  in  some 
other  land,  of  which  he  retained  only  a  shadowy  recollec- 
tion. Unable  to  define  or  explain  this  emotion,  he  at  last 
yielded  himself  up  to  the  charm,  and  was  happy  at  her 
side. 

If  he  turned  from  Cannie  or  the  old  man,  or  George,  who 
was  a  favorite  with  him,  it  was  to  gaze  with  much  interest 
on  the  graceful  young  Indian.  Lightfoot  evidently  excited 
his  curiosity  and  admiration.  There  was  something  simple 
and  majestic  about  the  Indian — the  evidence  or  the  posses- 
aion  of  those  traits  which  Falconbridge  had  been  tMght  to 


120 


love  and  reverence  all  his  life;  true  native  dignity,  simpHoitj 

and  goodness.  A  close  observer  would  have  said,  indeed, 
that  these  two  youths  of  different  race  and  training  had 
come  of  the  same  blood.  Both  bore  themselves  with  an 
unconscious  pride, — both  had  the  native  truth  and  honesty 
of  the  forest,  in  eye  and  lip  and  tone  of  voice. 

"You  are  from  the  Lowland,  I  beheve,  sir?"  said  the  old 
man  in  his  calm,  collected  voice,  "the  Tide- water  region?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  jeturned  Falconbridge ;  "from  the  banks  ol 
Chesapeake — and  I  seem  to  have  met  with  you,  or  some  one 
nearly  resembling  you,  somewhere  "  

And  the  young  man  seemed  to  reflect. 

"  Yes,"  he  added  suddenly,  "  it  was  in  Williamsburg  one 
day !  You  were  conversing  with  his  Excellency  the  Gover- 
nor, on  Gloucester  Street — were  you  not,  sir  ?" 

The  old  man  smiled,  but  replied  guardedly. 

"  I  have  visited  Williamsburg,  sir,  and  I  am  acquainted 
with  his  Excellency." 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,  Mr.  Powell — I  was  there  at  College,  and 
vras  walking  out  that  evening  with  a  friend,  when  I  saw  you. 
Did  you  live  near  the  town  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  returned  the  other,  "  higher  up  the  country. 
STou  see  I  have  come  up  still  further  into  the  mountains,  and 
perhaps  I  shall  spend  all  my  days  here.  There  is  something 
Btrangely  noble  to  my  eye  in  these  bristUng  ranges,  and  I 
ghould  Hke  to  sleep  my  last  sleep  on  the  summit  of  one  oi 
those  peaks." 

And  I,  too,"  said  Falconbridge  musing:  "true,  it  is  a 
matter  of  small  impoii:ance  where  the  poor  body  rests  when 
the  spirit  has  left  it — in  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  in  the  desert, 
in  the  air  as  the  Indian  race  prefer — ^in  the  lowland  or  the 
mountains.  But  something  of  the  old  preferences  govern 
us  even  in  this.  For  my  part  I  would  hke  my  gra^ve  to  b« 
on  the  summit  of  this  very  mountain — on  the  forehead  it- 
•elf  of  the  sleeping  giant,  if  I  may  call  it  such — ^yonder, 
where  that  great  eagle  is  swooping  toward  the  immense  pmi 


TFCB  MASTER  OP  GREElilWAT  OOXm, 


221 


ftgamst  the  sky,  full  in  the  sinking  sun.    And  that  remindi 

me,  George,"  added  the  speaker,  turning  to  his  compan- 
ion, "  that  we  should  set  out  for  home  unless  we  wish  to  be 
benighted.  I  have  had  a  happy  day,  sir,  and  thank  you  all 
for  it." 

With  these  words  Faloonbridge  rose. 

"I  have  something  to  give  you  for  Lord  Fairfax,  sir,"  saia 
the  old  man,  "  as  you  no  doubt  will  see  him.  I  will  procure 
it,  and  request  you  to  take  charge  of  it." 

He  retired  as  he  spoke,  and  soon  returned  with  a  small 
package,  secured  with  a  heavy  wax  seal,  which  he  handed  to 
Falconbridge.  The  young  man  thought  it  somewhat  singu- 
lar that  it  had  not  been  entrusted  to  George,  who  was  going 
straight  to  Greenway,  but  said  nothing,  and  bade  all  fare- 
wen. 

George,  however,  was  not  ready  :  a  circumsttince  which 
he  explained  by  saying  that  he  wished  to  discover  it  the 
stories  about  carrier-pigeons  were  true — and  especially  if 
Cannie's  favorite  one  "  would  carry  a  message  "  from  Green- 
way  to  the  mountain.  He  accordingly  proceeded  to  coax 
the  pigeon  to  descend  by  scattering  some  crumbs,  and  grad- 
ually approach  it,  as  it  tipped  about,  picking  them  up. 
Cannie  had  meanwhile  called  Falconbridge's  attention  to  her 
prince's  feathers,  cardinal  flowers,  and  primroses  in  a  bed 
near  the  fence,  and  the  yoimg  man  bent  down  and  examined 
them  with  a  pleasure  and  interest  which  was  rather  on  ac- 
count of  their  mistress  than  their  own,  but  no  less  deHghted 
the  smiling  girl. 

As  he  did  so,  he  did  not  observe  that  in  turning  round  ho 
had  dropped  from  the  breast  pocket  ot  his  doublet  the 
package  which  the  old  man  had  entrusted  to  him. 

George  soon  seciu'ed  the  pigeon,  and  imprisoning  it  care 
lolly  in  his  bosom,  announced  his  readiness  to  depart  With 
many  cordial  pressures  of  the  hand,  and  kind  words,  the 
two  young  men  then  mounted  Uieir  horses,  and  were  rapidlj 
(rooeedizig  on  tba  wa j  to  their  respectiTe  abodoii 


222 


FAIKFAX;  OK, 


They  parted  at  a  point  wher©  they  enconntered  the  road 
leading  from  Greenway  to  the  Ordinary — George  turning  to 
the  right,  Falcon  bridge  to  the  left — with  friendly  smiles,  and 
a  promise  on  George's  part  to  come  soon  and  see  his  friend^ 
at  Mynheer  Van  Doring's. 

Falconbridge  rode  on,  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  and 
had  nearly  reached  the  Ordinary,  when  suddenly  he  remem- 
bered the  package  entrusted  to  him  by  the  old  man,  which 
he  had  intended  to  dehver  to  George  for  the  hands  of  the 
Earl.  He  put  his  hand  into  his  doublet — it  w^as  gone! 
Greatly  annoyed  at  the  circumstance,  and  wondering  how 
he  had  lost  it,  he  thought  at  first  of  retracing  his  steps,  but 
gave  up  the  intention,  as  the  setting  sun  preluded  nighty 
and  he  would  not  be  able  to  find  it. 

ProDiising  himself  to  search  for  it  on  the  succeeding  mom^ 
ing,  he  continued  his  way. 

The  search  on  the  next  day  proved  useless. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  departure  of  the  young  men  frora 
the  mountain  cottage,  and  soon  after  Cannie  and  her  graml- 
father  had  entered  the  house,  the  bear  Bruin  descried  the 
ghttering  object,  and  either  attracted  by  the  color,  or  liking 
the  flavor  of  the  wax,  bore  it  off  to  a  spot  in  the  forest,  and 
amused  himself  in  mouthing  and  tearing  it.  Unimportant 
as  it  seemed,  the  circumstance  had  an  influence  almcis^l 
fatal  npoi)  tJhie  deHtioie*  of  three  jr^ersona 


TEX  MASTBB  OF  GKEBNWAY  COUlEn:. 


22ft 


XLV. 

IV  WBICa  CAFTAXH  WAGNEB  BBQITESTS  MONSIET73  JAXBOT  TO 
PULL  HIS  NOSE. 

JHE  spectacle  which  (greeted  Falconbridge  as  ha 
entered  the  doorway  of  i^^he  Ordinary,  was  one  of 
tnose  tableaux  wlii-^h  are  only  presented  upon 
extraordinary   occasions,  and  under  peculiar 
oircumstancea 

In  the  middle  of  the  apartment,  Captain  Wagner  and 
Monsieur  Jambot  were  locked  in  a  tender,  and  fraternal 
•labrace,  upon  which  Mrs.  Butterton  looked  with  tears  ol 
joyous  agitation  and  hysterical  deUghi 

What  had  caused  this  fine  picture  ?    Let  us  explain. 

Since  the  evening  when  Mrs.  Butterton  yielded  to  the  on- 
Bet  of  the  valiant  Borderer,  the  bosom  of  Monsieur  Jambol 
had  been  consumed  by  a  gloomy  internal  fire.  Hf  had 
speedily  discovered  the  result  of  that  low-toned  conversation 
between  the  Captain  and  the  widow — and  the  discovery  was 
gall  and  wormwood  to  him.  He  had  flattered  himself,  with 
that  talent  for  hope  which  characterizes  his  nation,  tkat  all 
obstacles  to  an  union  with  himself  would  disappear  from  the 
mind  of  Mrs.  Butterton — that  she  regarded  Captain  Wag- 
ner  with  nothing  more  than  ordinary  friendship — and  that 
he  himself  had  only  to  wait,  and  the  prize  would  be  hia 

OW£L 

When  he  now  found  his  rival  successful,  his  own  hopes  all 
emshed,  the  demon  of  revenge  invaded  his  breast;  and  h« 
iet  about  obeying  its  dictates. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  lo  which  we  have  now  arrived,  he 
olikd  himself  carefully  from  top  to  toe,  and  paid  minute  at- 
mtion  to  eTei7  detail  of  hia  oosttune  and  appearance.  Hi« 


9AIBFA1;  OB, 


gilk  stocMngs  were  irreproachable;  his  coat  ahnoBt  as  good 
as  new;  his  frill  immense  and  snow- whiter  his  cocked  hat 
resting  gallantly  on  his  powdered  peruke,  the  model  chapean 
of  a  noble  chevalier.  Indeed  Jambot  was  truly  a  chevalier 
of  Touraine,  of  no  means,  but  vastly  ancient  race,— and  had 
much  of  the  bel  air  in  his  carriage  when  he  chose  to  adopt  it 
— he  was  a  noble  still. 

In  this  guise  he  presented  himself  before  Mrs.  Buttertong 
and  declared  with  deep  sadness  that  in  the  distant  land  to 
which  he  was  soon  about  to  proceed,  he  would  always  re- 
member her,  and  speak  of  her  to  his  friends  with  admiration 
and  respect. 

The  fair  lady  looked  surprised  at  this  announcement,  and 
said: 

"  Why,  where  are  you  going.  Monsieur  Jambot  ?" 

"  I  go  to  my  native  Touraine,  madame,"  returned  Monsieur 
Jambot  with  a  touching  air,  "  I  am  desolated  to  announce 
this  to  madame,  but  'tis  necessary.  I  go  to  the  home  of  my 
race,  to  my  native  land.  My  worthy  aunt  has  had  the  poUte- 
ness  to  die — I  have  some  rentes — my  cousin,  the  Vicomte 
de  Louvais,  will  give  the  poor  exile  home — or  in  the  most 
hospitable  mansion  of  my  uncle,  Monsieur  le  Chevaher  de 
Sautry,  I  shall  Hnger  out,  it  may  be,  these  few  sad  years, 
which,  alas  1  will  pa^ss  themselves  so  far  from  madame  I" 

With  these  words  Monsieur  Jambot  assumed  an  expres- 
iion  of  mingled  love  and  sorrow,  which  really  became  him, 
and  had  no  little  effect  upon  the  widow.  She  had  liked 
Monsieur  Jambot — had  indeed  thought  seriously  of  bestow- 
ing her  hand  upon  him — a  possession  which  he  evidently 
coveted.  He  was  poor  and  homeless,  but  then  he  was  gal- 
lant and  chivakic;  he  might  be  romantic  and  unfit  for  busi- 
ness, but  then  he  was  devoted  and  kind-hearted — he  would 
love  her  and  wait  upon  her;  she  might  do  worse  than  be- 
come Madame  Jambot.  These  reflections,  we  say,  had  more 
than  once  passed  through  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Butterton,  and 
BOW  when  the  tride  exiU  m  be  often  called  himself  spolM  ol 


tm  llASTEB  OS*  QBEEKWAt  COWt 


m 


iepartilig— when  he  addressed  her  in  a  strain  of  such  touch" 
ing  regret  and  affection — the  heart  of  the  lady  felt  all  ita 
old  impressions  revive,  and  the  graces  of  Captain  Wagner 
for  the  moment  quite  disappeared  from  her  memory.  She 
therefore  responded  to  the  touching  address  of  her  admirer 
by  looking  sadly  at  him,  and  saying  : 

"  Are  you  really  obhged  to  go.  Monsieur  Jambot  ?" 
'Tis  better,"  replied  her  sorrowful  companion;  "  'tis  best 
for  the  peace  of  mind  of  madame'spoor  friend.  That  friend 
will  not  make  himself  too  free  with  those  events,  he  will  say 
those  tragic  events,  which  have  come  to  desolate  his  hfe,  to 
crush  his  hoj)es,  to  make  the  life  of  him  but  a  mocking 
dream,  a  chimera,  which  disappears  I  May  the  friend  of  the 
poor  chevaher  be  happy  in  one  who  goes  to  love  her  much, 
though  not  so  greatly  as  another!  May  he  feel  in  his  na- 
tive home,  at  the  board  of  De  Sautry,  or  on  the  battlements 
of  the  Chateau  de  Louvais  which  makes  itself  admired  by  all 
upon  the  green  banks  of  the  Loire,  that  he  has  still  a  friend 
— a  fair  and  beautiful  friend  in  the  distant  land  from  which 
he  now  goes  to  depart — may  he  know  that  one  whom  he  has 
loved,  with  a  love  so  profound,  so  devoted,  so  ineffable,  has 
not  forgotten  him,  but  thinks  still  of  him,  and  perhaps  in 
the  bright  days  wOl  murmur,  'Finally  he  loved  me  very 
much,  this  poor  sad  chevaher — ^this  exile  !' " 

The  head  of  the  fair  widow  sank.  The  mournful  words 
impressed  her  deeply,  and  revived  all  her  old  affection. 
There  was  more  than  one  emotion  in  her  heart  as  she  gazed 
at  him  now,  sadly  and  kindly.  There  was  pity,  regard,  that 
•ympathy  which  the  female  bosom  never  fails  to  conceive  lor 
the  man  who  loves  with  real  devotion — there  was  more. 
Monsieur  Jambot  was  thus,  after  all,  a  nobleman !  His 
family  were  ChevaUers  and  Viscounts !  He  was  going  back 
to  the  battlements  of  castles  and  chateaus,  the  possessions 
of  his  uncles  and  cousins!  As  Madame  Jambot,  she  would 
have  sat  at  the  right  hand  of  the  noble  De  Sautry,  and  Dc 
Lcuvais-  -beau  a  member  of  that  elevated  and  refined  sooid- 


926 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


— ^this  was  lost  to  her!    Such  reflections  were  passing 

through  the  mind  of  the  lady,  and  they  were  not  without 
their  effect  upon  her.  She  had  abundant  reason  to  know 
that  all  that  Monsieur  Jambot  said  was  true — and  her  head 
drooped  as  she  gazed  at  him.  It  is  no  mor  e  than  justice  to 
add,  however,  that  pity  and  grief  at  parting  with  an  old 
friend  were  the  chief  causes  of  her  sadness.  The  tone  ol 
her  companion  was  hopeless  and  resigned — he  was  yielding 
like  an  honest  chevalier  to  a  more  favored  rival,—  without 
complaint,  with  the  air  of  a  gentleman  who  is  unfortunate 
and  retii'es.  Could  she  suffer  him  to  depart  without  assur- 
ing him  of  her  lasting  affection  ? 

These  reflections  had  so  much  influence  upon  her,  that 
the  fair  Mrs.  Butterton  begged  Monsieur  Jambot  to  come 
and  sit  beside  her.  He  obeyed  with  a  resigned  and  touch- 
ing air,  which  deepened  the  impression  produced  by  his 
words. 

The  lady  then  proceeded  to  reply  to  his  sad  address. 
Gracefully  evading  the  allusion  to  "another,"  she  professed 
for  Monsieur  Jambot  a  lasting  and  most  affectionate  regard 
He  had  proved  himself,  she  said,  a  true  friend,  on  very  many 
occasions — she  had  found  from  many  circumstances,  that 
he  was  as  reliable  and  devoted  in  his  regard,  as  he  was 
kindly  and  sincere  in  his  feelings,  and  she  could  not  give 
him  up — she  could  not  bid  him  farewell — ^he  must  not — 
must  not — ^go! 

With  these  words,  the  last  of  which  were  uttered  in  a 
broken  and  agitated  voice,  the  fair  widow  turned  her  head 
away,  placed  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  uttered  a 
sob. 

The  sound  seemed  to  act  like  an  electric  shock  upon  Mon- 
sieur Jambot  He  uttered  a  deep  groan — cried,  "Oh 
heaven  I  She  weeps  I" — and  falling  upon  his  knees,  caught 
her  other  hand  in  his  own,  ^ind  pressed  it  ardently  to  his 
lips. 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  a  heavy  step  resounded 
bebin<j  Monsieur  Jambot^  a  tremendoua  growl  was  heardt 


THE  HABTEB  09  GBEENWAY  GOUBT* 


227 


ft&d  a  sonoroiis  voice,  full  of  wiatli  and  aatonishiucut, 
cried  : 

"Ho  there  1  On  his  knees,  or  the  devil  fly  away  with 
me!" 

It  was  Captain  Wagner  : — Captain  Wagner  astounded  ; 
Captain  Wagner  furious;  Captain  Wagner  boiling  with  fiery 
jealousy  and  indignation,  and  threatening  with  his  drawn 
Bword  to  let  loose  the  bloody  dogs  of  war  upon  his  enemy. 

Monsieur  Jambot  rose  quickly  to  his  feet,  and  returned 
the  look  of  the  Captain  with  one  equally  ferocious. 

"  Ah  ?  ventrebleu !  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  goes  to  get 
angry !"  he  hissed  in  a  mocking  and  satiric  tone.  "  Mon- 
sieur is  of  the  jealous  !" 

"  No  sir !  I'm  not  jealous,"  returned  the  Captam,  "  but 
it  is  my  intention  to  spit  your  carcass  on  this  little  trinket 
—to  skin  you,  and  eat  ym,  hind  legs  and  all.  Monsieur 
Frog-eater  !    If  I  don't  I'm  a  dandy  and  a  kitten !" 

With  these  awful  words,  the  Captam  advanced  straight  on 
Monsieur  Jambot,  who  had  whipped  out  his  little  dress- 
sword,  and  did  not  budge  an  inch;  and  in  an  instant  the 
weapons  clashed  together. 

A  gi'im  pleasure  at  his  opponent's  pluck  came  to  the 
face  of  the  Captain,  and  gravely  saluting  with  his  other 
hand,  he  made  a  lunge  at  his  foe  which  would  have 
carried  out  the  terrible  threat  just  uttered,  had  it  not 
been  for  an  unexpected  circumstance.  This  circumstance 
was  nothing  less  than  the  disappearance  of  the  vahant  Cap- 
Iain's  head,  shoulders,  arm  and  sabre,  beneath  a  huge  horse- 
blanket,  from  the  folds  of  which  the  weapon  of  the  soldier 
nade  ineiBfectual  slashes  in  the  air. 

The  hysterical  LIrsj.  Butterton  had  performed  this  feat. 
In  her  agitation  she  had  seized  and  made  use  of  the  huge 
irrapping,  and  it  had  answered  the  purpose  which  she  de- 
signed. Captain  Wagner  resembled,  as  he  struggled  and 
struck  out  wildly,  one  of  those  luckless  individuals  whom 
che  Venetian  "  Ten  "  doomed  to  the  stiletto,  a  mantle  being 
ikrown  over  their  heads  before  the  biow. 


la  an  instant  he  extricated  himself,  breathing  &te  And 

Slaughter;  but  it  was  only  to  fin  i  his  sword  arm  drawn  down 
bj  the  entire  weight  of  Mi's.  Butterton's  person. 

"  For  shame,  Captain !  for  shame  1"  cried  the  lady,  with 
blushing  agitation,  and  pouting;  "how  could  you  treal 
Monsieur  Jambot  so  badly,  so  cruelly!" 

"  Badly,  madam  V*  thundered  the  Captain,  with  Olympian 
indignation  and  astonishment.  "Cruelly!  Did  I  not  sec 
nim  with  my  own  eyes  kneeling  there  1  Did  I  not  see  him 
kissing  your  hand,  madam,  and  making  love  to  you 

"And  if  he  did  kiss  my  hand,  what  of  that?"  said  the 
lady,  with  a  more  obvious  pout  still;  "my  hand  is  my  own. 
and  no  one  else's !" 

"That  may  be,  madam,"  returned  the  soldier,  still  irate, 
but  growing  cooler  at  these  significant  words,  "  but  I'll  none 
the  less  have  Monsieur's  blood !" 

"  You  shall  not  fight  with  him,  or  he  with  you !"  cried  the 
widow,  again,  alarmed  at  the  Captain's  ferocity;  "I  tell  yon 
it  was  nothing;  Monsieur  Jambot  is  going  away  T 

And  Mrs.  Butterton  rapidly  related  the  particulars  of  the 
interview;  forgetting,  however,  to  mention  the  unimportant 
circumstance  that  she  had  urged  the  nephew  of  the  Che- 
vaier  de  Sautry  not  to  depart.  The  history  quite  changed 
the  feelings  and  intentions  of  the  worthy  Captain.  He 
grew  gradually  cooler,  and  soon  recovered  all  his  equanim- 
ity, when  he  refiected  that  his  rival  was  about  to  go.  Had  h$ 
not  been  guilty,  indeed,  of  wanton  insult  and  annoyance  to 
that  gentleman  ?  Was  his  ferocious  attack  weU  calculated 
to  advance  him  in  the  estimation  of  his  lady  love  ?  Did  he 
not  owe  Monsieur  Jamuot  a  fall  and  frank  explanation — an 
apology,  and  a  disclaimer  of  all  intent  to  outrage  him  ? 

These  thoughts  passed  seriatim  through  the  mind  of  the 
worthy,  as  he  Ustened;  and  at  the  end  of  the  relation,  his 
mind  was  made  up.  Keplacing  his  sword  in  its  scabbard, 
he  fixed  upon  Mrs.  Butterton  a  look  full  of  sorro^vful  but 
ardent  adoration,  and  said  : 


THE  MASTEE  OF  GBEENWAT  OOUBT. 


229 


"I  am  glad  that  you  aiTested  me  in  my  course,  madam  I 
I  was  wrong.  But  in  certain  states  of  mind,  I  have  alwayi 
observed  that  the  most  intcllij^ent  men  act  Hke  fools,  or  non 
tempos  mentis  people,  as  the  Greeks  say.  You  understand 
me,  madam,"  said  the  Captain,  with  immense  significance? 
"  and  I  leave  you  to  decide.  As  to  Monsieur  Jambot,  I  am 
willing  and  even  desirous  to  assure  that  gentleman,  for  whom 
I  have  a  very  high  esteem,  of  my  regrets.  I  was  wrong — I 
was  a  fool  and  ninny,  or  I'm  a  dandy !  Monsieur  Jambot,  I 
have  grown  a  pair  of  long  ears,  I'm  a  donkey,  or  the  dovU 
take  it  I  If  it  will  be  any  satisfaction,  and  productive  of 
any  pleasure  to  you,  you  are  at  liberty  to  pull  my  miserable 
nose,  or  cut  off,  with  that  handsome  sword  of  yours,  the 
lengthy  ears  of  which  I  spoke — only  I  beg  of  you  bo  puli 
with  a  gentle  and  tender  hand,  and  to  leave  enough  of  the 
said  ears  to  grow  out  agaii*  -or  the  future  historian  of  my 
eventful  life  will  write  in  the  book  which  he  makes  about 
my  adventures,  the  words,  ^  Captain  Longknife  was  destitute 
of  earsl'  which  would  be  ano<3king  and  mortifying  to  my 
descendants — to  my  very  great  grandchildren  V* 

With  these  solemn  words.  Captain  Wagne^  bowed  cour- 
teously to  Monsieur  Jambot,  and  added  : 

"I  am  ready  to  shake  hands,  ix^t  dear  friend,  and  beg 
your  pardon — I'll  do  it— if  I  don't,  Fm  a  dandy  I" 

"Shake  hands  1"  cried  Monsieur  Jambot,  whose  temper 
•▼as  excitable,  but  as  generous  as  the  day,  "  it  shaU  not  be 
;>»at  we  shake  hands,  Mon  cher  Capitame  and  friend — thai 
we  embrace!" 

As  he  spoke  the  worthy  Jambot  extended  his  arms,  and 
the  two  bloody  foes  were  locked  in  a  fraternal  embiaoe. 
The  chin  of  Captain  Wagner  reposed  affectionately  beMveeu 
the  shoulders  of  his  friend;  the  countenance  of  Monsieui 
Jambot  appeared  above  the  arm  of  the  other;  and  to  make 
the  whole  complete,  the  fair  lady  who  had  caused  all  the 
fommotion,  stood  by  cryiug^ — ^but  laughing  too,  and  r(ijoi# 
ing  at  the  result. 


YAZBfAX;  OB, 


It  was  then  that  Falconbridge  entered,  and  stood  fiCflot 

with  astonishinent;  but  all  was  soon  explained  to  him. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  dear  Falconbridge,  your  friend  Wagnfi^' 
is  a  fool,"  said  the  Captain;  "but  when  a  man  grows  jealous 
he  sees  things  double,  or  I'm  a  dandy !  I  remember  hearing 
about  a  black  fellow  who  knocked  up  a  courtship  with  some 
king's  daughter  or  other,  by  his  nigger-witchcraft,  and  ran 
off  with  her  * — after  which  he  got  jealous  without  any  rea- 
son, and  choked  her  to  death  with  a  bolster.  Falcon- 
bridge,"  said  the  Captain,  with  affecting  solemnity  of  ao» 
eent-,  "beware  of  ;ealousy  !" 


*  Tkda  somewhAi  free  descriptiou  of  the  noble  Moor al  ^&L»ktepmrB,  and  Mr 
nmm  ot  influencing  Desdemona,  wm  uttered  in  the  baunUi^  of  AIhe  wkitcr,  by  f 
MHh|r>  wka  ad<M  tiwt  tlM  rmme  «r  the  Ad^>  m  yfeU  a*  IM)  nomM  tw^lvi^>  im 


231 


XLV. 

THE  LAMIA. 

HE  passion  of  Lord  Fairfax  for  Sliss  Argal  ripen- 
ed rapidly,  and  soon  attained  its  full  strength. 
It  was  one  of  those  fatal  infatnatious  wLieh  par- 
alyze the  reason,  and  lead  captive  the  wills  ol 
the  strcngest  and  most  resolute  men. 

From  that  evening  when  George  encountered  him  in  the 
Massinutton,  and  when  they  met  Miss  Argal  and  Falcon- 
bridge  on  the  prairie,  the  Earl  had  not  ceased  to  think  oi 
her  with  a  singular  emotion.  There  was  something  in  this 
young  lady  which  no  one  could  describe — an  impalpable 
and  wondrous  fascination — ^which,  when  it  had  once  been 
felt,  was  an  influence  on  the  lif<e,  an  irresistible  spell  which 
could  not  be  thrown  off.  Her  brauty  was  but  a  small  part 
of  this  magnetic  power.  Her  face,  it  is  true,  with  its  rosy 
cheeks,  crimson  lips,  and  framework  of  black  curls,  was  of 
rare  loYcliness  :  her  figure,  both  fiill  and  undulating,  both 
sweeping  and  redundant,  was  enough  to  attract  admiration; 
but  the  secret  of  her  influence  lay  deeper,  and  was  difficult 
to  define.  It  was  chiefly,  a  keen  obserrer  might  have  said, 
m  the  eye,  and  its  expression,  or  its  thousand  expressions, 
rather.  It  was  a  strange  and  wonderful  pair  of  eyes.  The 
lamia  of  the  poets — that  mythological  creature,  with  the 
form  of  a  woman,  and  the  instincts  of  a  serpent — might  have 
afforded  an  illustration  of  ]\Iiss  Aigal  at  times.  Indeed, 
this  serpent-like  glance,  dark  and  glitterinj^:,  but  full  of 
caressing  sweetness  and  subtle  fascination  as  well,  almost 
always  shone  from  beneath  her  long  silken  lashes.  It  waa 
sidelong  and  wary  glance^  as  if  the  person  were  watching 


2Bi 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


—a  ciinning  and  yet  confiding  gaze,  lying  in  wait,  as  it 
were,  for  its  prey.  It  could  coax  and  cajole,  and  beseech, 
and  wheedle — it  took  all  characters,  and  bewildered  the 
mind,  but  ended  by  bringing  the  victim  to  hei  feet. 

It  was  wonderful,  miraculous,  almost,  what  a  magnetic 
power  lay  in  those  eyes — a  power  to  fascinate,  to  peiBuade^ 
to  .bend  the  reason,  however  strong-willed  and  imperial.  It 
had  been  nothing  to  draw  the  ardent  and  impulsive  young 
man  to  her  side — ^Falconbridge  was  ripe  for  a  passionate 
attachment — ^he  was  young,  unsuspecting,  an  admirer  of  the 
beautiful;  with  a  heart  which  the  first  beautiful  woman 
might  enslave  from  the  very  enthusiasm  and  warmth  of  hie 
nature.  But  Lord  Fairfax !  To  win  that  cold  and  collected 
man  ! — to  turn  the  old  dry  nobleman,  past  middle  life,  into 
a  bashful  and  embarrassed  lover !  To  move  a  heart  long 
unmoved — to  bend  a  will  so  resolute  and  determined — to 
make  that  woman-hater,  or  woman-fearer,  yield  to  her  wiles, 
and  follow  her  wken  she  beckoned !  That  was  truly  an  un- 
dertaking worthy  of  her  ambition.  She  worked  for  it — and 
she  achieved  her  end. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  analyze  such  a  character.  "We  touch 
upon  those  mysterious  and  shifting  motives  and  impulses 
as  the  mariner  in  the  frozen  regions  of  tl  e  North,  in  the 
gloomy  night,  treads  cautiously  and  with  repugnance  on 
the  floating  mass  ol  ict  which  envelops  his  ship.  There 
was  Httle  love  in  question,  on  her  part.  She  was  attracted 
toward  Lord  Fairfax  by  his  wealth  and  position — ^by  the 
ambition  of  becoming  his  Countess,  and  thus  becoming  mis- 
tress, in  fact,  of  one  fourth,  very  nearly,  of  the  province. 

Thread  by  thread  the  iveb  was  woven.  The  Earl  of  Fair- 
fax soon  came  to  feel  a  passionate  attachment  for  the  fas- 
cinating woman,  and  to  visit  her  regularly — sometimes  in 
the  absence  of  I'alconbridge,  somt.  times  when  he  was  pres- 
ent. But  he  did  not  exhibit  any  indications  of  his  passion 
boyond  this.  His  cold  mask  was  never  thrown  off  for  a 
moment   His  countenance  with  its  spiia,  sad  smile,  scaroe* 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAT  COURT. 


288 


ly  relaxed — ^he  was  tlie  same  calm,  and  cynical  philosopheJ 
as  before,  the  same  courteous  gentleman,  but  no  more. 
One  thing  was  apparent,  however,  in  his  demeanor.  He 
avoided  Falconbridge,  and  seemed  ill  at  ease  in  his  society; 
but  let  it  not  be  supposed  from  this  that  the  Earl  was  con- 
scious of  committing  an  injustice  in  visiting  the  young  lady. 
Miss  Argal  had  distinctly  informed  him  one  morning,  that 
she  was  not  bound  in  any  way  to  Falconbridge — that  he 
was  merely  a  friendly  visitor  who  was  lonely  at  the  Ordin- 
ary, and  came  over  to  chat  with  her  and  her  father.  The 
Earl  had  thus  set  his  mind  at  rest  on  the  subject,  and  re- 
garded himself  as  wholly  irreproachable  in  the  undertaking 
which  he  had  determined  upon  now,  the  attempt  to  make 
Miss  Argal  his  Countess. 

We  have  forborne  to  describe  the  feelings  of  Falcon- 
bridge. The  task  was  more  than  we  were  willing  to  attempt. 
There  is  something  awful  and  darkly  tragic  in  the  picture 
of  a  noble  and  great  heart  writhing  under  the  dominion  of 
a  mad  passion  for  a  woman,  and  feeling  that  his  passion  is 
a  vain  one.  For  to  this  conclusion  had  the  young  man  now 
very  nearly  arrived.  He  could  scarcely  mistake  the  indica- 
tions of  Miss  Argal's  manner.  She  was  no  longer  what  she 
had  been  to  him.  All  her  delightful  smiles,  and  caressing 
accents,  had  disappeared.  She  met  him  when  he  came  with 
ill-concealed  disinclination,  and  opposed  to  his  questions 
and  prayers  for  an  explanation,  an  obdurate  and  uncon- 
querable reserve.  If  she  repUed  at  all,  it  was  only  to  say, 
with  cold  politeness,  that  Mr.  Falconbridge  really  placed 
too  much  stress  upon  trifles;  young  ladies,  like  their  svpe- 
riors,  young  men^  were  subject  to  changes  of  mood;  she  was 
not  well  to-day;  the  discussion  made  her  head  ache;  was 
there  any  news  of  mterest  at  the  Ordinary  ? — she  supposed 
he  would  soon  return  home  now,  as  he  had  said  his  busi- 
ness in  the  region  was  finished.  She  would  advise  him  to. 
The  air  of  the  moimtains,  after  October,  was  very  cold— he 
would  oatch  a  catarrh — and  she  really  would  advise  him,  at 


234 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


a  friend  to  return.  Ah !  there  was  Lord  Fairfax !  Would 
Mr.  Falconbridge  excuse  her  for  a  moment?  His  lord- 
ship was  always  pleased  when  she  met  him  at  the  door." 

That  was  all.  And  Falconbridge  would  grind  his  lip  with 
his  teeth,  bow  coldly  as  the  Earl  entered,  and  discover  that 
he  had  to  meet  George,  or  Captain  Wagner, at  the  Ordinary. 
He  would  go  away  raging ;  and  bury  himself  in  his  cham- 
ber, and  grow  old  hour  by  hour,  in  presence  of  his  misery. 

To  this  point  the  history  of  the  persons  had  advanced, 
when  we  again  return  to  particular  scenes  in  the  narrative. 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREEKWAT  COURT.  235 


SLVX 

HOW  VJiJCOK&BJm^H  JLOXmXb  A  XTBfi  TO  SSI  B7. 

T  was  nearlr  ^tinset,  and  a  heavy  bank  o(  lurid 
cloud,  tmxged  with  crimson^  Was  piled  up  tha 
western  horizon.  It  was  plain  that  a  storm 
would  burst  before  the  sunlight  shone  again,  and 
every  eye  which  witnessed  the  magnificent  spectacle,  was  en- 
tranced by  its  grandeur  and  wild  beauty. 

Falconbridge  alone,  of  all  at  the  Ordinary,  di>3  not  heed 
it.  Scnted  in  his  chamber,  his  shoulders  bending  forward, 
his  face  pale,  his  eyes  blazing  at  times  with  a  menacing  fire, 
he  did  not  move  or  utter  a  word.  The  events  of  the  last 
few  days  had  almost  paralyzed  him.  He  seenied  to  be 
growing  old.  His  face  had  lost  all  its  bloom  and  freshness  ; 
his  bearing  aU  its  buoyant  grace  and  pnde;  he  stooped  like 
an  octogenarian,  who  approaches  the  end  of  human  life^ 
after  much  toil  and  suffering  and  grief. 

The  mood  of  the  young  man's  mind  was  piteotis.  Bags 
and  despair,  love  and  hatred,  a  thousand  warring  and  dis- 
cordant passions,  hold  riotous  carnival  in  the  heaving 
bosom,  and  tore  him  with  their  burning  talons. 

He  knew  all  now.  He  had  become  aware  of  Miss  Argal's 
intentions  with  regard  to  the  Earl;  and  though  the  young 
ladj  had  not  distinctly  broken  with  him,  he  foresaw  that  she 
had  resolved  to  do  so,  and  would  dismiss  him  on  the  first 
favorable  opportunity.  Thus,  then,  would  end  his  wild  and 
deHcious  dream.  The  pas^sionate  love,  which  permeated  hia 
very  Kfe-blood,  would  be  swallowed  up  in  this  gulf  of  des- 
pair. He  would  be  thrown  off  like  a  useless  garment,  whose 
gloss  has  departed— which  no  longer  excites  any  emotioo 


286 


lAlKFAX;  OK, 


but  contempt  The  Countess  of  Fairfax,  if  they  eTor  met 
again,  would  smile  or  sneer  at  their  past  relations,  and 
greet  him  with  an  air  of  condescensioiL  or  indifference.  The 
Earl  would  not  insult  him,  perhaps — he  would  treat  him 
with  great  politeness  ;  a  Xoi  r  .er  friend  of  his  Countesi 
TTonld  be  entitled  to  so  mucn  attention;  and  he  would  b« 
bowed  out  grandly  from  their  presence,  he,  the  siily  young 
adventurer,  who  had  presumed  to  be  the  rival  of  his  bet- 
ters I 

The  thought  flushed  the  pale  cheek,  and  brought  a  threaten- 
ing flash  to  the  eyes.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  and  looked 
around  him  with  a  fiery  glance.  Where  was  ho  ?  Why  was 
he  inactive  ?  Was  he  to  sit  dov/n  and  groan,  and  submit  to 
his  fate — or  go  and  dare  the  worst,  and  place  everything 
upon  a  comprehensible  footing? 

Yes,  he  would  go !  He  v/ould  see  her  for  the  last  tima 
He  would  know,  beyond  all  doubt,  what  she  intended,  what 
he  might  expect.  He  would  endure  no  longer  this  horrible 
state  of  doubt — all  should  be  plain. 

Falconbridge  acted  quickly.  He  went  and  ordered  his 
horse — ^passed  through  the  main  apartment  without  speak- 
ing to  any  one, — and  was  soon  in  the  so^ddlo.  The  sky  began 
to  grow  darker,  the  distant  thunder  to  matter;  and  one  or 
two  vivid  flashes  of  lightning  darted  across  the  zenith,  re- 
vealing the  lurid  depths  more  plainly.  Falconbridge  paid 
no  attention  to  these  evidences  of  the  approaching  storm. 
He  struck  the  spur  into  his  horse's  sides;  and  se{.  forward 
at  a  wild  pace,  towards  Mr.  Argal's. 

He  soon  reached  the  place,  and  the  fiery  hght  in  his  eyes 
deepened  and  grew  more  menacing  at  the  sight  which  greet- 
ed him  at  the  door.  Lord  Fairfax's  horse  stood  there — indeed 
the  Earl  had  spent  the  entire  afternoon  with  Miss  Argal,  her 
lather  being  again  una\  oidably  absent,  and  the  former  ex- 
cuse of  her  lonehness  having  proved  successful  in  retaining 
his  lordship. 

Falconbridge  set  his  teeth  together  like  a  vioei  -lismoimtp 


THE  KASTEB  OF  GBEENWAT  COXJBT. 


887 


ed,  and  went  and  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  by  a 
■ervant,  who  did  not  move  aside  for  the  young  gentleman, 

"  Miss  Argal?"  he  said,  making  a  step  in  advance. 

Mistress  had  told  her  to  say,  replied  the  servant,  if  Mr. 
Falconbridge  came,  that  she  was  engaged  and  must  b« 
excused  for  not  seeing  him. 

That  was  all.  The  words  sounded  Hke  a  death-knell  in 
the  young  man's  ears.  He  simply  bowed  his  head  and  de- 
parted.   He  almost  staggered  as  he  walked. 

Has  brain  was  turning  round.  He  mounted  his  horsa 
again,  and  set  forth  on  his  return.  Then  he  would  not  even 
have  an  opportunity  of  arriving  at  a  distinct  understanding  1 
What  gihe  had  done  once  she  would  do  again.  He  was  to  be 
Bimply  dismissed  contemptuously,  as  if  unworthy  of  atten- 
tion,— as  a  common  individual,  whose  society  was  disagree- 
able. Meanwhile,  Lord  Fairfax  was  sitting  by  the  side  of 
the  young  lady,  laughing,  it  might  be,  at  the  disappointment 
of  his  rival,  and  basking  in  the  love-light  of  her  fascinating 
eyes,  and  those  smiles  which  now  shone  for  him  alone. 

The  thought  maddened  the  young  man  almost.  He  looked 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  illuminated  window,  through  which 
he  descried  the  shadows  of  the  young  lady  and  the  Earl, 
close  beside  each  other.  With  a  muttered  imprecation,  and 
clenched  hands,  the  young  man  struck  his  horse  with  the 
spur,  and  galloped  forward.  But  he  did  not  proceed  far. 
Just  as  the  house  began  to  disappear  in  the  trees,  he  reined 
In  his  animal  and  waited — his  resolution  was  taken. 

He  did  not  wait  long.  Lord  Fairfax,  as  we  have  said,  had 
Bpent  many  hours  with  Miss  Argal,  and  now  desii-ed  to 
reach  his  home  before  the  outburst  of  the  storm.  He  ac- 
cordingly bade  the  young  lady  farewell.  Falconbridge  saw 
the  two  forms  in  the  brightly  illuminated  doorway,  and 
mounting  his  horse,  set  forward  rapidly  toward  Greenway. 

The  Earl  passed  within  five  paces  of  Falconbridge,  but 
the  darknojss,  which  had  descended  quickly,  completely  hid 
kha  motionless  horse  and  his  rider.   It  was  no  part  of  tba 


S88 


yonDg  man's  design  to  force  an  explanation  of  the  charaoM 
which  he  intended  from  the  Earl,  within  sight  or  hearing  of 
Miss  Argal.  He  accordingly  permitted  the  tall  horseman  to 
pass  him  at  full  gallop;  and  then  giving  rein  to  Sir  John,  he 
followed. 

The  Earl  heard  the  quick  trampling  behind  him,  and  won- 
dered at  it.  The  hour  and  the  place  were  not  calculated  to 
remove  his  suspicions  of  the  pursuer — but  he  continued  his 
way  without  noticing  the  circumstance. 

The  hoof-strokes  rapidly  approached — ^he  heard  the  quick 
breathing  of  the  animal  behind  him — then,  before  he  could 
gpeak,  a  violent  hand  was  laid  on  his  bridle-  and  the  horse, 
suddenly  ai-rested,  reared  erect  almost,  quivering  with 
terror. 

At  the  same  moment  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  revealed 
Falconbridge. 

"  Sir !  Mr.  Falconbridge  exclaimed  the  Earl,  in  a  voice 
of  utter  astonishment  and  no  less  indignation,  "pray,  what 
is  the  meaning  of  this  very  extraordinary  proceeding  ?" 

**  I  will  inform  your  lordship  before  our  interview  ends," 
returned  Falconbridge,  in  a  deep,  hollow  voice,  which  his 
Buffering  had  rendered  almost  unrecognizable. 

"Are  you  mad,  sir?**  said  the  Earl,  from  the  darkness  ; 
release  my  bridle!" 

"  Willingly,"  was  the  cold  reply;  "you  are  no  coward,  and 
will  not  escape  me !" 

"Escape!  coward  1  You  shall  answer  for  those  words, 
■irl" 

"  I  am  ready  to  do  so." 

"In  the  darkness,  n(4  doubt,"  returned  the  Earl,  full  ol 
contempt  and  aroused  anger,  "'tis  the  favorite  tfoak  of 
assassins  and  lunatics." 

The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  Falconbridge  wad 
heard  leaping  from  his  horse  Then  a  quick  sound  followed 
—the  sound  of  steel  striking  against  flint — and  almost  im* 
Wdmtely  a  pile  of  drj  leaves  axid  prairie         was  blazing 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GKEENWAl  JOUKR 


280 


aloft,  illuminatiiig  the  forest  and  the  threatening  figarei 
with  its  brilliant  flame. 

"  Now/*  said  Faiconbridge,  in  the  same  hollow  voice,  "  ii 
your  lordship  is  not  afraid,  you  may  dismount  and  listen 
to  my  questions." 

The  word  "  afraid'*  acted  like  magic  on  Lord  Fairfax.  He 
threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  and  gazing  at  his  companion 
with  mingled  astonishment  and  anger,  confronted  him  in 
the  full  blaze  of  the  fire. 

There  was  something  strange  and  tragic  in  the  scene  as 
the  two  men  stood  thus.  The  ruddy  hght  streamed  foil 
ui3on  them,  and  they  akeady  had  their  hands  upon  their 
Bwords. 

"  Speak,  sir,**  said  the  Earl,  controUing  his  anger  ;  "speak; 
and  explain  this  astonishing  encounter.** 

"I  will  do  so,**  said  Faiconbridge,  "  and  first  I  will  pro* 
pound  a  question  to  you,  my  lord.  Have  you  visited  Misa 
Argal  to-day?** 

"Yes,  sir.*' 

"Were  you  not  there  when  I  came  to  the  door  and  asked 
for  the  young  lady?*' 
"Yes,  sir.'* 

"Are  you  aware  that  the  young  lady  is  plighted  to  me?" 
"  PHghted,  sir  I    No !    She  is  not !" 
"  Dqcs  vour  lordship  design  giving  me  the  He  ?" 
And  the  young  man  advanced  a  step,  half  drawing  his 
sword. 

"  Mr.  Faiconbridge,"  said  the  Earl,  without  moving,  "  ar^ 
you  a  lunatic?  I  design  nothing,  sir, — I  reply  to  youi 
question.  I  say  that  MissArgal^as  not  phghted  to  yew, 
because  she  assured  me  that  she  was  not." 

"  She  assured  you !" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"My  lord,  I  do  not  believe  you." 
The  Earl's  face  flushed  crimson. 
'*That  is  a  deliberate  insult!" 


240 


FAIBFAX;  OB. 


*•  As  such  I  receive  :t,  and  will  make  yon  answer  lor  it| 
sir,  at  the  point  of  the  sword !" 

"  Good !  good !"  said  Falconbridge,  with  gloomy  ple&aure, 
"  now  your  lordship  is  talking  like  a  man.  I  thought,  ai 
you  had  tricked  an  honest  gentleman — supplanted  him  by 
craft  and  cunning  in  the  heart  of  the  only  woman  he  evei 
loved — taken  advantage  of  your  rank  and  wealth  to  wile 
away  the  affections  of  a  lady  plighted  to  another — thought, 
as  you  had  done  aU  this,  my  lord,  pretending  aU  the  time 
that  you  were  the  best  friend  I  had, — that  you  would  now 
discover  some  means  of  evading  my  vengeance — of  refusing 
me  reparation  at  the  sword's  point!  I  comphment  your 
lordship — ^you  are  not  frightened  at  the  sight  of  cold  steel 
at  least — you  are  aroused  by  my  rudeness  and  my  insults  i 
That  is  weU,  sir  I  Let  us  end,  then,  aU  our  differences  ai 
once,  and  on  this  spot — with  no  witnesses,  no  preliminaries, 
without  ceremony  1" 

And  drawing  his  sword,  Falconbridge  advanced  upon  the 
Earl,  whose  weapon  was  also  in  his  hand. 

But  it  was  not  raised.  The  momentary  madness  of  An- 
ger had  disappeared  from  the  mind  of  Lord  Fairfax — he 
seriously  asked  himself  if  he  was  not  dealing  with  a  mad- 
man. The  additional  consideration  immediately  presented 
itself,  that  a  combat  at  such  a  time  and  place,  without  wit- 
nesses, would  be  productive  of  the  most  serious  results  to 
the  survivor.  No  evidence  that  the  contest  was  fair  and 
honorable  would  exist.  The  simple  fact  would  be  that  a 
man  was  killed;  and  there  were  plenty  of  persons  ready  to 
utter  the  word  murder.  If  he  killed  the  yoang  man  in  that 
lonely  spot,  could  he  produce  any  evidence  of  the  provoca- 
tion which  had  led  to  the  act  ?  Would  not  many  of  the 
miserable  newsmongers  of  the  region  say  tnat  jealousy  and 
rivalry  had  made  him  waylay  his  adversary?  As  these 
thoughts  passed  rapidly  through  the  brain  of  the  Earl,  he 
drew  back  coldly,  and  sheathed  his  weapon- 

Mr.  Falconbridge,"  he  said,  i^thout  moving,  as  ilia  fa- 


TBI  UAJSTER  OF  GREENWAT  OOITBT.  241 


rioTifl  yotmg  m«-n  advanced  straight  on  him,  "  if  you  Tfish  tc 

kill  me,  do  so.  I  will  not  even  trust  my  sword  in  my  hand. 
You  may  not  be  aware  of  the  fact,  but  I  am,  sir,  that  th« 
survivor  in  this  combat  will  be  regarded  as  a  murderer.  But 
understand  me,  sir,  I  do  not  refuse  your  clmUenge— yon 
have  outraged  and  insulted  me  in  a  manner  which  no  gen- 
tleman can  bear,  and  by  heavens!  you  shall  answer  it!  Go 
home,  and  do  aU  thihgs  decently  and  in  order.  Procure 
your  second,  and  write  me  a  formal  communication.  Do  not 
fear,  sir  I  You  have  made  me  as  desirous  of  this  encounter 
as  yourself,  and  I  am  willing,  nay,  I  insist  upon  it — ^my 
blood  or  your  own  must  flow,  sir  V 

With  which  words  the  Earl  dehberately  mounted  his 
horse,  and  gravely  saluting  his  adversary,  continued  his  road 
toward  Green  way. 

Falconbridge  gazed  after  him  for  a  few  moments  without 
moving.  The  excess  of  anger  in  his  bosom  had  somewhat 
moderated,  as  he  hstened  to  the  collected  voice  of  the  Earl 
— but  it  soon  returned  in  fuU  force  again.  He  had  thought 
of  Miss  Argal  and  the  two  shadows  on  the  wall.  With  lips 
firmly  compressed,  and  a  more  fatal  determination  in  his 
eye  than  before,  he  leaped  into  the  saddle,  and  just  as  the 
storm  began  to  roar  around  him,  and  extinguish  the  fire, 
darted  forward  in  the  direction  of  the  Ordinary 

"  The  net  is  broken  1"  he  muttered,  with  a  bitter  sneer, 
through  his  close-set  teeth^  *^but  the  prey  has  not 
eapedr 


13 


m 


tilBFAX;  Ctt, 


'  XLvn. 

PEELIMINABIES. 

DUEL!"  said  Captain  Wagner,  when  upoa 
the  following  morning  Falconbridge  related  to 
him  the  events  of  the  preceding  night — "  a  duel  1 
and  about  that  woman !  By  the  snout  of  thej 
old  he-dragon !  Falconbridge,  both  you  and  Fairfax  are  a 
bigger  pair  of  lunatics  than  I  took  you  for." 

"  So  let  it  be,"  said  Falconbridge,  pale  and  coUbcted  as  be- 
fore, "  and  I  do  not  conceal  from  you — cannaSi — that  Miss 
Argal  is  connected  with  the  matter." 

"  Connected  with  it  I  Falconbridge,  don't  treat  me  like  an 
idiot,"  said  the  Captain,  gloomily,  "  I  am  sane  in  mind,  and 
see  somewhat  further  than  my  nose." 
The  young  man  made  no  reply. 

"  I  knew  it  was  coming  in  some  form  or  other — this  mis-* 
ery,  and  wretchedness  and  blood!"  continued  the  Captain 
in  a  sombre  tone,  "  I  smelt  it  in  the  air — this  bloody  odor — 
or  the  devil  take  it!" 

"  You  were  right  in  your  warning,"  muttered  the  young 
man,  with  unutterable  despair  in  his  altered  voice  1  "  Would 
that  I  had  taken  your  advice." 

About  the  nature  of  panthers,  eh?"  said  Wagner,  as 
grimly  as  before;    well,  I  wish  you  had-" 

"  It  would  have  been  well  for  me." 

"  But  you  did  not  believe  me/*  ftaid  the  Captain,  frowning 
painfully.  And  now  see,  Falconbridge,  how  things  have 
turned  out  You  doubted  the  miserable  old  bear  who 
growled  at  the  pretty,  variegated  auim}^  witli  her  ahining 


»H»  MASTBB  OF  fJBEEKWAY  OOXTBT.  248 


ooat,  her  brilliant  eyes,  her  caressea  and  smiles,  and  bright 
glajxoesi  You  were  ahnost  ready  to  strike  your  sword  hilt 
into  the  mouth  that  discoursed  on  the  subject.  And  now, 
what  has  happened  ?  You  have  felt  the  sharp  claws  which 
I  told  you  of  1  You  have  rolled  into  the  mortal  hugl  The 
long,  glittering  teeth  which  mangled  Charles  Austin  and 
left  him  in  a  pool  of  blood  are  gnawing  you — ^you  are  her 
prey!'' 

A  groan  answered  the  words.    It  was  irrepressible. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  murmured  the  young  man  with  cruel  agony 
"  yes,  yes,  that's  aU  true — I  am  lost  I" 

"  Not  that  either !  no,  you're  not,  by  the  snout  ci  the 
dragon  1"  returned  the  soldier;  "things  are  not  that  bad  at 
least.  Don't  cry  for  spilt  mUk — look  the  thing  in  the  face. 
Let  me  speak  like  a  doctor,  comrade,  and  probe  your  wound, 
though  you  shudder  and  cry  out.  I  mean  well — do  you  love 
that  woman  still  ?" 

"  I  know  not,"  was  the  low  reply. 

"  Then  you  do  love  her  stilL   And  now  what  do  you  de- 
wgnr 
"Nothing." 

"  That  means  nothing.  Are  you  going  to  return  to  her, 
Palconbridge  ?  Speak,  and  say  if  you  a^:e  goitig  back  to 
crouch  at  her  feet,  to  be  whipped  and  spit  on,  and  spurned 
like  a  dog  I  Are  you  going  to  cry  and  bewail,  and  beg  her 
to  love  you,  and  make  yourself  her  slave,  her  menial !  Tell 
sne  this.  Speak  frankly,  Falconbridge — are  you  going  to 
return  ?  If  so,  though  I  love  you  as  I  would  love  my  own 
boy  comrade.  111  wash  my  hands  clear  of  the  busiuess." 

"  Rest  easy,"  was  the  reply,  in  the  same  low  voice,  "  I  shall 
never  see  her  again — except  to  get  from  her  the  ring  which 
was  my  mother's." 

A  contraction  of  the  pale  brow  and  quivering  Hp  betrayed 
the  agony  of  the  speaker,  and  he  was  silent  Then  he  added, 
in  a  voice  which  was  almost  inaudible, 

"My  mother  gave  me  that  ring  on  her  death-bed,  with 


244 


VAIBFAX;  OB) 


her  blessing.    She  cried  as  she  placed  it  on  my  finger,  and  I 

never  removed  it  until  the  morning  when — I  was  mad,  com- 
panion  1  Don't  mind  me — ^you  see — I  am  thinking — of  my 
mother." 

He  was  silent  again.  The  words  had  forced  their  way  by 
violence  as  it  were,  through  the  clenched  teeth,  and  the  pale 
lips.  The  eyes  of  the  young  man  were  dry  and  fixed — there 
neve  no  tears  in  them. 

"  Falconbridge,"  said  Captain  Wagner,  with  frowning 
brows,  "  stop  that  talk,  or  you'll  make  me  cry  like  a  baby  I 
To  think  of  all  this — of  the  way  you  have  been  tricked — ol 
your  honesty  and  true  manliness — by  the  horns  of  the  dev- 
il 1  it  makes  me  flush — my  nerves  twitch  1  Would  this  woman 
were  a  man  V 

Indeed  a  flash  of  something  like  fiery  rage  darted  from  the 
eyes  of  the  soldier,  and  his  hand  stole  down  to  the  hilt  ol 
his  weapon.  Then,  as  he  looked  into  the  countenance  of  his 
sompanion,  this  flash  disappeared  ;  he  bent  down  murmur- 
ing :  and  the  old  wistful,  almost  tender  expression  returned. 

"  Falconbridge,"  he  said,  "  my  miserable  old  heart  is  bleed- 
ing for  you,  as  I  think  of  what  may  happen  in  the  next 
twenty-four  hours.  Whatever  may  be  the  result  of  that 
•ombat  you  announce  as  coming,  it  must  be  horrible." 

"  So  let  it  be." 
There's  misery  and  death  in  the  matter — ^the  blood  of 
one  or  both  of  ycu." 

"  Doubtless,"  was  the  cold  rep*f  of  the  young  man,  who 
tlud  completely  mastered  his  emotion,  and  was  calm  a^ain- 

"Fairfax  is  an  admirable  swordsman  ;  I  have  played  with 
feim  ;  and  you,  do  you  use  the  short-sword?" 

^-Trxdifferent  well" 
rhat  is  ^-^11— at  least  there  will  be  a  fair  and  above- 
board  fight — no  unequal  combat.  But  I  know  not  whethel 
it  is  not  unfortunate  after  all — if  I  do,  may  I  be  scalped  1" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Captain?"  said  Falconbridge. 

I  meAxi  pkiiilj  thia — ^that  iu  case  you  were  i^orant  ol 


THB  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWA7  00X7BX.  24A 

* 

the  use  of  the  smaH-sword,  or  completely  out  of  practice,  th# 
affair  could  not  take  place — it  might  easily  be  arranged — as 
I  hope  it  will  be  yet.  Without  a  swordsman  for  his  oppo- 
nent, the  Earl  would  retire — and  you  would  necessarily  do 
likewise.*' 

"  Never  I  There  would  remain  the  pistol  I"  was  the  quick 
reply,  between  the  close- set  teeth. 

**'  A  villainous  weapon  1  No  1  If  there's  a  combat  it  shall 
be  with  short-swords.  That  is  fair  and  honorable — and 
now  what  rxe  you  going  to  do,  Falconbridge  ?" 

"  I  shall  set  out  at  once  to  find  some  gentleman  of  the 
neighborhood,  who'll  act  as  my  second." 

"  Hum  1  then  you  know  some  ?" 

"  One  or  two  very  slightly,  but  they  cannot  refuse  me." 

"  Hum !  hum  1"  repeated  the  Captain,  still  gloomy  and 
thoughtful,  but  gazing  at  his  companion  from  time  to  time 
with  the  strange,  wistful  glance  which  we  have  noticed, "  and 
is  there  no  possible  way  of  accommodating  this  difference  ?" 

"  None  on  earth.  If  there  is  no  regular  duel,  there  will 
be  a  combat  wherever  we  meet — the  blood  of  myself  or  Lord 
Fairfax  must  flow  1" 

"  Misery  I  misery  1"  muttered  the  soldier; "  a  wretched  buo- 
hiess  in  every  way.  And  pray,  why  don't  you  ask  me  to 
second  you,  Falconbridge  ?" 

"  Because,"  said  the  young  man,  rewarding  the  speaker 
with  one  of  his  proud  glances,  full  of  thanks  and  feeling, 
"  because  you  live  with  Lord  Fairfax,  and  are  naturally  his 
lecond  in  the  matter." 

•*  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  returned  Wagner,  coolly;  "  you're 
my  friend  as  much  as  Fairfax,  and  by  the  dragon's  snout, 
I'll  not  have  you  go  looking  for  a  friend,  when  his  lordship 
can  select  one  out  of  a  hundred.  Wait  here,  companion. 
I'll  return  in  an  hour.    Do  you  promise  ?" 

"  You  say  *an  hour  V  " 

'^Tes." 

I  will  wait  so  long.  Captain — ^bat  sacrifice  nothing  for 


FAIRFAX;  om, 


i^e-  haTe  no  jar  with  his  lordship.  I  am  not  worthjr  el 
such  friendship,  or  of  such  a  sacrifice  of  feeling.  I  soon 
pass.  See  the  sun  there,  comrade!  He  is  mounting  the 
nkj — well,  it  is  probable  that  I'll  not  see  his  setting.  So  be 
it.  1  am  tired  of  my  life,  and  death  cannot  come  too  quick- 
ly.   In  asi  hour  I" 

And  with  these  gloomy  words,  which  affected  the  rough 
Borderer  strangely,  the  young  man  entered  the  buildija/y  pmM 
retired  to  his  ohamb^. 


na  MASTXB  OF  0BEENWA7  COUBT» 


XLTIIL 

THE  DERANGEMENT. 

HE  Captain  set  out  at  a  thundering  gallop,  asid 
soon  reached  Greenway  Court.  Lord  Fairfai 
met  him  at  the  door. 

"  Ah !   welcome  Captain  Wagner,"  he  said, 
speaking  in  his  habitual  tone  of  calmness,  mingled  with 
gloom ;  "  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  sending?  for  you — to  the 
Ordinar}%  where  you  have  been,  I  think.'* 
"  Tes,  mv  lord.    I  spent  the  night  thera*^ 
"  And  you  saw  Mr.  Falconbridge 
"Yes,  my  lord    This  morning." 

•*Did  he  speak  of  the  even t^j  which  occurred  last  evening 

"  As  soon  as  I  descended.  I  have  come  as  quickly  as  po» 
Bible  discuss  in  turn  with  your  lordship,  the  arrange^ 
ment  of  the  whole  affair." 

The  Earl  inclined  his  head  gravely,  and  pointed  to  a  seat, 
which  the  Captain  assumed. 

"  Speak,  Captain  Wagner/'  he  said,  calmly  and  courteous- 

"I  will  do  so,  my  lord,"  returned  the  Borderer,  "and 
frankly.  It  is  necessary,  in  this  miserable  business  between 
yourself  and  Falconbridge,  that  I  should  act  as  the  friend  ol 
your  opponeiA.  I  like  candor,  and  honesty — I  prefer  talk- 
ing it  out  plainly.  I  am  attached  to  you,  my  lord,  I  am 
your  guest,  and  owe  much  to  you — but  I  Ioyc  this  young 
man  as  if  he  was  my  own  blood-  -my  son ;  and  he's  a  strangei 
here.  Tour  lordship  can  find  a  friend  who  will  be  prond 
lo  Ml  for  yoa — uxj  one  of  a  dozen  iii  the  country  n«iur 


VAIBFAX;  OB, 


hand — ^while  Palconbridge  is  almost  alone  in  this  land*  1 

announce  this  in  advance,  that  no  misunderstanding  may 
take  place — and  now,  my  lord,  I  await  your  pleasure." 

"  Thanks,  Captain  Wagner,"  said  the  Earl,  with  a  low  bow, 
**it  is  pleasure  indeed  which  I  have  experienced  as  you 
spoke.  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  this  new  proof  of  your  confi* 
dence  and  esteem  ;  you  rate  me  as  I  wish,  sir,  as  a  gentle^ 
inan  and  an  honest  man.  I  not  only  acquiesce  in  your  pro- 
posal to  act  for  Mr.  Falconbridge,  and  acquit  you  of  all  want 
of  friendship  in  so  doing  toward  myself — I  was  prepared  to 
insist  upon  this  very  course.  That  we  understand  and  treat 
each  other  with  this  confidence,  is  another  proof  of  that  es- 
teem which  I  think  we  feel  mutually,  sir.  Thanks,  Captain 
Wagner." 

And  the  Earl  inclined  again. 

"Now  to  business,"  he  continued;  "I  have  already  dis- 
patched a  request  to  Colonel  Carter  that  he  will  wait  on  me 
here,  and  I  think  he  will  soon  come.  Do  you  bear  any 
communication  from  Mr.  Falconbridge  ?" 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  am  not  regularly  in  the  position  of  his 
second  yet,  and  have  avoided  becoming  such,  in  order  that 
I  might  act  as  the  mutual  friend  of  both — Abound  e2K3lusively 
to  neither." 

"  As  the  friend  of  both?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord — and  you  know  that  such  is  the  real  truth. 
As  a  friend  then,  iu  no  wise  connected  with  either,  I  ask,  is 
no  arrangement  possible  without  bloodshed?" 

"None,  none  at  all,"  returned  the  Earl,  with  gloomy  calm- 
ness; "I  see  no  possibility  of  such  a  thing.  Tou  have 
doubtless  heard  the  particulars  of  the  encounter  in  the  wood 
last  night,  and  may  easily  understand  that  any  explanation 
is  impossible.  Let  me  speak  more  plainly,  and  place  the 
whole  in  a  clear  light.  I  have  paid  my  addresses  to  Misa 
Argal  in  due  form,  and  I  think  she  is  willing  to  become  the 
Countess  of  Fairfax.  Let  us  not  speak  further  of  this  pri- 
v»t6  matter,  which  I  mention  only  to  elucidate  the  reeti 


THE  MASTER  OF  QREENWAY  COURT. 


249 


WeD,  sir,  I  often  saw  Mr.  Falconbridge  at  Mr.  Argal's^ 
and  his  attention  to  the  young  lady  appeared  somewhat 
particular.  I  accordingly  demanded  of  her  the  exact  char- 
acter  of  these  attentions,  and  she  assured  me  that  they  wer* 
merely  those  of  a  friend.  "Was  there  any  contract,  definite 
or  implied,  between  herself  and  Mr.  Falconbridge  ?  I  asked. 
None  whatever,  was  the  reply.  Why  do  you  frown  and 
SDeer  so  Captain,  with  your  lip  T 

"  I  beg  your  lordship's  pardon — 'tis  a  deplorable  habit  I 
have  acquired.    Pray  proceed." 

"  The  rest  may  be  related  briefly.  Once  assured  that  Mr. 
Falconbridge  had  no  claims  on  Miss  Argal,  and  believing 
that  he  regarded  her  in  the  light  of  a  familiar  friend  only,  I 
paid  her  my  addresses  in  a  more  marked  manner.  She  re* 
ceived  them  in  a  manner  which  induced  me  to  hope  that  my 
attentions  were  agreeable,  and  my  visits  became,  according- 
ly, more  frequent.  Yesterday  I  spent  the  afternoon  with 
the  young  lady.  Mr.  Falconbridge  called,  and,  to  my  great 
surprise,  was  mformed  that  Miss  Argal  was  engaged,  and 
could  not  see  him.  She  explained  the  circumstance  by 
saying  that  he  had  grown  so  moody  and  disagreeable  of  late 
that  she  must  really  endeavor  to  break  off  her  indmacy  with 
him — ^he  made  her  melancholy.  So  the  subject  was  forgot- 
ten, and  I  thought  no  more  of  the  younaf  f^entleman  until  he 
waylaid  me  in  the  wood,  and  gave  me  the  lie  dii-ect." 

The  Earl  flushed  as  he  spoke  ;  but  controlled  his  emotion 
and  added: 

"  That  is  all,  sir.  I  avoided  a  conflict  then  and  there  by 
promising  to  meet  Mr.  Falconbridge  at  another  and  more 
favorable  time.  You  must  see,  Captain  W^agner,  that  any 
overtures  from  myself  are  utterly  impossible." 

The  soldier  knit  his  brows  and  looked  more  gloomy  thaa 
ever. 

"  It's  a  deadly  looking  mixture,  or  I*m  a  dandy  I"  he  mut- 
tered, "  and  unless  Falconbridge  will  move  in  the  matt«^ 
•U'b  oyer/' 


250 


FAJHFAX;  OB, 


**What  do  yon  say,  Captain?" 
Nothing  much,  my  lord.    I  will  go  and  bee  Paloonbridg€^ 
and  rbjnrn  as  soon  as  possible,  either  bearing  you  the 
terms  of  an  arrangement  of  the  affair,  or  delivering  his  car- 
tel" 

"  That  is  my  duty,"  returned  the  Earl.  "  Mr.  Falcon- 
bridge  will  thus  have  choice  of  weapons,  time  and  place." 

"  There  will  be  no  trouble  about  that,  my  lord ;  now  111 
go  and  see  what  I  can  do." 

With  these  words  the  soldier  mounted  his  horse,  and  re- 
turned rapidly  to  the  Ordinary.  All  his  attempts  to  move 
the  young  man  were  utterly  in  vain — the  arguments  of  the 
Borderer  fell  back,  so  to  speak,  from  his  iron  resolution, 
like  waves  from  an  ocean  rock.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  there 
was  nothing  remaining  but  the  question  of  time,  place  and 
weapons.  The  Captain  ret  "rned,  and  found  Colonel  Carter 
at  Greenw  y,  and  with  this  gentleman  he  now  discussed, 
formally,  as  the  second  of  Falconbridge,  the  terms  of  the 
combat. 

It  was  a?Tanged  that  it  should  take  place  on  the  same  evei:- 
ing  at  a  spot  within  the  Fort  Mountain,  which  was  secluded 

and  favorabls  for  the  purpose,  and  then  the  Captain  re- 
turned to  the  Ordinary. 

He  had  never  oeen  more  gloomy. 


THJB  MAfiTSB  OF  QBESNWAT  OOUBX.  25i 


XLEL 

THE  OOUBJlT. 

S  the  hour  which  had  been  fixed  for  the  combal 

drew  near,  the  four  men  entered  the  narrow 
defile  of  the  Fort  Mountain,  and  approached  the 
secluded  spot  which  had  been  selected. 
They  dismounted,  tied  their  horses  to  the  hanging  boughs, 
ftnd  advanced  slowly  to  the  arena. 

Captain  Wagner  and  his  principal  returned  the  low  sa- 
lute of  Lord  Fairfax,  and  his  fnend,  with  one  equally  cour- 
teous, and  then  the  seconds  approached  each  other,  and  con- 
versed for  some  moments  in  a  low  tone,  which  was  inaudible 
to  their  companions. 

The  preliminaries  were  soon  arranged,  and  the  swords 
were  produced  and  measuredL  They  tallied  exactly  in 
length,  and  were  of  the  same  weight  and  temper.  A  nod 
from  the  Captain  testified  to  his  satisfaction. 

At  a  sign  from  the  seconds,  the  Earl  and  Falconbridge 
then  removed  their  coats  and  waistcoats,  and  advanced  to  a 
spot  indicated.  They  halted,  saluted  each  other,  and  re* 
oeived  the  weapons  from  the  hands  of  Captain  Washier  and 
Colonel  Carter. 

"The  terms  of  the  combat  are  as  follows,  gentlemen, ** 
said  the  Captain.  "  You  shall  engage,  and  so  proceed  for 
as  loug  a  time  as  seems  proper.  But  in  no  case  shall  any 
personal  collision  of  bodies  take  place  ;  there  shall  be  no 
clutching,  and  no  resort  to  other  weapons  than  the  short- 
Bword.  Should  either  weapon  break,  or  the  fodt  of  either 
party  slip,  or  stumble,  the  engagement  shall  terminate  for 
the  timeb  I  will  give  the  signal  by  raising  my  hand.** 


262 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


At  the  appointed  signal,  the  two  men  advanced  upon 
each  other,  and  the  weapons  clashed  together,  the  light  ol 
tiie  sinking  sun  darting  vividly  from  their  bui^nished  sur- 
^Aces. 

Both  were  excelleLi  swordsmen,  and  soon  felt  that  all 
iheir  science  would  be  necessary.  The  combat  was  thus 
guarded  at  first,  and  consisted  of  a  series  of  fencing  lujiges, 
rather  than  rapid  thrusts,  as  though  each  were  feeling  the 
wrist  of  his  adversary.  Falconbridge  was  the  more  active 
and  supple  of  the  two — -the  Earl  stronger  and  heavier  in 
his  fence.  Still,  as  the  combat  grew  more  excited,  neither 
had  gained  any  advantage — and  the  blood  of  1:  >th  gradually 
grew  heated.  The  Earl  glared  at  his  enemy,  and  a  spot  in 
each  cheek  began  to  glow;  on  his  forehead  the  huge  veins 
becs.me  black.  Falconbridge  was  pale,  but  the  fire  in  his 
eyes  contradicted  his  apparent  calmness :  his  lips  were  set 
together  like  iron. 

Despite  his  most  powerful  exertions  the  Earl  could  not 
drive  the  young  man  back  an  inch  ;  and  his  most  deadly 
lunges  were  regularly  parried.  The  old  swordsman  grew 
fiery  and  dangerous.  His  cheeks  glowed  as  if  from  the 
light  of  a  conflagration — he  braced  his  gaunt  frame  until  it 
resembled  a  bundle  of  steel  springs,  and  advanced  step  by 
step  upon  Falconbridge.  He  did  not  yield  or  give  ground 
— ^the  points  of  the  weapons  played  in  the  very  faces  of  the 
combatants — the  hilts  were  almost  wrapped  around  each 
other. 

Then,  in  spite  of  the  exclamations  and  protests  of  the 
seconds,  who  hastened  quickly  toward  them,  a  desperate, 
hand  to  hand,  stabbing-match,  rather  than  sword-play,  com- 
menced. Both  the  Earl  and  Falconbridge  received  slight 
wounds — but  the  sight  of  blood  only  enraged  them  morf 
bitterly. 

In  another  moment  each  would  have  moi-tally  wound- 
ed his  adversary,  and  so  brought  the  combat  to  an  end, 
when  suddenly  the  two  men  were  dragged  Tiolently  Mondei^ 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  OOXTBT. 


268 


and  the  Wizard  of  the  Massinutton  interposed  his  ta\l  form, 
shuddering  with  strange  emotion,  between  the  ajtversarie* 
The  respective  seconds  of  the  combatants  had  rushed  for«< 
ward,  crying,  "Gentlemen  I  gentlemen!  this  must  cease  I  no 
poniard  fight  1" — ^but  the  towering  resident  of  the  Fort 
Mountain  had  forestalled  them.  He  had  seen  the  party 
when  they  entered  the  gorge  of  the  valley,  and  divining 
their  intention,  hastened  quickly  toward  them.  He  had 
arrived  in  time,  and  now  stood  between  the  hot  swords- 
men, his  form  towering  high  above  even  that  of  the  Earl — 
his  face,  generally  so  pale,  flushed  with  tragic  emotion. 

The  Earl  gazed  at  him  angrily,  and  raised  his  head 
haughtily  as  their  eyes  encountered. 

"Pray,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  interruption,  sir?"  he 
said.  "Are  you  aware  that  you  peril  your  life  by  this  pro- 
ceeding I" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  wizard,  still  agitated  in  every 
muscle  of  his  tall,  nervous  frame  by  the  singular  tremor  we 
have  noticed,  "  Your  weapon  was  within  an  ace  of  pene- 
trating my  breast;  and  Mr.  Ealconbridge  also  nearly  struck 
me.    But  that  is  little  !" 

"  Your  meaning,  sir  1    Stand  back  1" 

"  I  will  not  1  You  may  kill  me,  if  the  act  will  be  pro- 
ductive of  satisfaction  to  your  lordship;  but  you  shall  not 
even  do  that  until  you  hear  what  I  came  to  say  to  you." 

There  was  something  so  resolute  and  gloomy  in  the  voice 
of  the  old  man,  and  his  eyes  burned  with  such  significance 
beneath  his  bushy  white  brows,  that  the  Earl  unconsciously 
dropped  the  point  of  his  sword,  and  was  silent. 

"Your  proceeding  is  extraordinary,  very  extraordinary, 
eir,"  he  replied,  coldly,  "but  I  respect  your  age,  and 
iay  no  more.  I  only  request  that  you  will  communicate  to 
me  speedily  what  you  design  to  inform  me  of — I  know  not 
what  it  is — then  we  will  proceed  1" 

"  It  is  necessary,"  returned  the  vizard,  that  jour  lord* 
■hip  abould  liaten  to  it  in  priTate.'* 


254 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


Impossible,  sir  !"  the  Earl  replied,  impatiently  shaking 
his  h  iad:  "I  cannot,  and  will  not  leave  this  spot  nntil  thif 
matter  is  terminated  !" 

"  You  must !"  was  the  resolute  answer.  "  Tes,  my  lord, 
I  tell  you,  and  I  know  what  I  say — teU  you  that  you  must 
hear  me  speak,  and  privately.  This  combat  shall  not  con- 
tinue, if  it  becomes  necessary  for  me  to  interpose  my  own 
body  between  your  swords." 

"You  speak  in  riddles,  sir!*'  exclaimed  the  Earl;  "stand 
back  1" 

"Stiilie,  then,  gentlemen,"  replied  the  wizard,  calmly 
folding  his  arms,  and  not  moving  from  the  spot  which  he 
occupied  between  the  combatants;  "if  you  wish  to  shed 
blood,  shed  my  own  to  commence  with.  I  swear  to  you 
that  nothing  shall  move  me  but  the  death-blow!" 

And  he  confronted  the  Earl  with  a  majesty  and  determin- 
ation in  eye,  lip,  and  bearing,  which  produced  an  eflfect  even 
on  his  angry  opponent. 

"Well,  have  your  wish,  sir !"  said  Lord  Fairfax,  frowning, 
"witii  the  permission  of  Captain  Wagner,  I  will  retire  for  a 
moment,  to  the  distance  of  ten  paces — ^is  it  permitted,  sir  ?" 

"It  is  permitted,  my  lord,"  said  the  Captain. 

"Well,  let  us  make  haste,  sir,"  said  the  Earl:  and  sheath- 
ing his  sword,  he  followed  his  companion,  with  quick  steps. 
They  had  proceeded  about  ten  paces,  and  the  wizard  had 
commenced  speaking  in  a  low,  guarded  tone,  when  the  Earl 
was  observed  to  start  violently.  As  he  did  so,  his  head 
turned  quickly,  and  he  fixed  upon  Falconbridge  one  of  those 
glances  of  lightning,  whi-^^.h,  on  extraordinary  occasions^ 
made  his  eyes  resemble  flaming  brands.  His  face  wa« 
deadly  pale,  and  the  contracted  lips  revealed  his  white  teeth 
Bet  Hke  a  vice  together.  He  no  longer  opposed  the  will  ol 
his  companion,  evidently — they  walked  a  hundred  yards, 
talking  in  a  low,  agitated  manner,  and  finally  disappeared 
behind  a  huge  mass  of  rock,  covered  with  moss  and  ever* 
ipraeiui^  which  rose  on  the  declivity  of  ike  mountaiiL 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAT  OOUBT. 


25S 


The  three  gentlemen  who  had  been  left  by  themselves  in 
this  unceremonious  manner,  waited  patiently  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  Then  they  began  to  lock  curiously  toward  the 
rocky  screen.  Another  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  slowly 
away,  and  Colonel  Carter,  at  the  request  of  Captain  Wag- 
ner, had  just  gone  to  summon  the  Earl,  when  the  two  men 
were  seen  returning. 

An  extraordinary  change  had  taken  place  in  the  bearing 
and  appearance  of  Lord  Fairfax.  l^Vlien  he  left  the  party, 
he  had  carried  his  head  proudly  erect,  his  eyes  v/ere  flash- 
ing with  anger,  and  the  aroused  thirst  for  blood — he  had 
resembled  a  warhorse,  snuffing  the  odor  of  battle,  amd 
champing  at  the  /)it  which  restrains  him.  Now,  all  this 
nad  disappeared.  His  shoulders  were  drooping — his  cheeks 
were  pale:  his  eyes,  of  late  so  fiery,  were  full  of  wistful 
light;  and  he  gazed  upon  bis  companions  with  an  expression 
of  absent  wonder  which  impressed  them  with  the  most  vivid 
astonishment.  Especially  did  they  experience  a  sentiment 
amounting  to  stupefaction,  almost,  when  they  saw  the  Earl 
glance  toward  Falconbridge.  In  that  glance  there  was  no 
longer  any  enmity,  any  ang^er — all  had  vanished.  It  was  a 
gaze  almost  tender  in  its  character  ;  and  plainly  an  uncon- 
scious one  to  the  Earl.  The  ^'^oimg  man  wondered  at  it,  but 
replied  only  by  a  look  haughtier  than  before,  and  calmly 
tested  the  metal  of  his  weapon  by  pressing  the  point  upon 
his  boot. 

Lord  Fairfax  soon  recovered  fi'om  his  fit  of  absence,  how- 
ever, and  by  a  great  effort,  summoned  his  habitual  calm- 
ness. 

He  approached  Captain  Wagner,  and  Falconbridge,  and 
bowing  with  grave  courtesy,  said  : 

This  affair  cannot  proceed,  gentlemen,  and  the  singular 
circumstances  accompanying  the  fact,  is  the  entu-e  silence 
which  I  am  compelled  to  observe  at  present  upon  the  char- 
acter of  the  consiileratioiiiii  vvliich  render  a  further  oombAt 
impossible/' 


FAIRFAX;  ^R, 


Falconbridge  flushed,  and  grasped  his  sword  in  a  menao^ 
ing  manner. 

"  I  am  aware/'  continued  the  Earl,  in  the  same  cahn  yoioe, 
"  that  my  words  are  enigmas,  but  I  cannot  prevent  that.  ] 
will  make  any  apology,  or  follow  any  course  which  Mr% 
Falconbridge  may  see  fit  to  demand.*' 

The  seconds  and  Falconbridge  greeted  these  words  with 
incredulous  wonder;  but  the  Earl  did  not  seem  to  observe 
it,  and  added  : 

"  1  propose,  in  all  that  relates  to  an  affair  in  which  Mr, 
Falconbridge  and  myself  hold  the  position  of  rival  claim- 
ants, to  withdraw  my  pretensions,  and  retire  from  the  field 
— his  interests  ahaU  no  longer  suffer  from  my  presence — and 
I  am  prepared  to  make  him  any  apology  which  he  requires, 
for  anything  in  which  he  may  have  thought  himsell 
wronged,  by  any  act  of  my  own." 

The  words  were  uttered  as  calmly  and  coldly  as  before, 
in  spite  of  a  faint  tinge  which  rose  slowly  to  the  cheek,  and 
having  finished  them,  the  Earl  bowed  low  and  was  silent. 
The  seconds  and  Falconbridge  had  listened  with  an  amaze- 
ment greater  tha^n  before;  but  this  expression  in  the  eyes 
of  Wagner  was  succeeded  by  another  of  unmistakable 
pleasure.  As  the  Earl  ended  his  address,  he  bow^d  low 
and  repUed : 

"  As  the  friend  of  Mr.  Falconbridge,  I  accept  yoor  lord- 
ship's proposal.  We  shall  waive  all  further  explanations  or 
discussions,  resting  content  with  the  general  disclaimer,  and 
olTer  which  has  been  made.  You  will  permit  me,  my  lord, 
to  say  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Falconbridge,  whom  I  represent, 
that  this  proposition  is  no  less  characteristic  of  your  lord- 
ship's magnanimity,  than  of  your  fearless  disregard  of  ap- 
pearances. And  so,  gentlemen,  the  matter's  at  an  end — ^th^ 
fight's  over — if  it's  not,  I'm  a  crop-eared  iandyl" 

With  this  joyous  outburst,  the  Captain  twirled  his  moas- 
taohe  violently,  and  picking  up  the  coats  of  the  combatants, 
handed  them  to  thoae  gentlemen^  with  an  air  fnll  of  graoi 


THE  MASTER  OF  GUEEKWAY  COURT. 


257 


and  politeness.  With  a  clouded,  and  gloomy  brow,  Falcon- 
bridge  yielded  to  his  representative,  and  the  whole  party 
were  soon  again  in  the  saddle,  on  their  way  back  to  the 
Lowland. 

The  wizard  was  slowly  retrricing  his  steps  up  the  moun- 
tain. 


mm  FALCONBRIDOK  BSOOYEBED  HIS  MOTEEfi  8  ROMk. 

N  the  day  after  the  events  which  have  just  beea 
narrated,  Falconbridge  set  ont  from  the  Ordin 
ary  to  visit  Miss  Argal  for  the  last  time. 
Wtj  know  the  design  of  his  visit.  AH  was 
over — there  wna  no  longt^r  ony  hope — the  drama  ivas  i)1ayed 
—he  had  falb.n  in  the  contest:  but  he  must  look  upon  her 
face  once  more  for  a  moment;  he  must  recover  the  plain 
gold  ring  which  had  belonged  tc  hie  mother,  and  remained 
in  the  posse^jsion  of  the  young  lady. 

As  he  thuB  drew  near  t-o  the  secluded  dwelling  in  which  b« 
had  spent  so  many  happy  hours,  a  painful  and  cruel  shadow 
swept  across  the  broad  bt  ow  of  the  young  man.  His  shoul- 
ders drooped;  his  lip  quivered;  and  the  heavy-looking  eyes 
were  half  veiled  by  the  long  lashes  which  almost  reposed 
upon  the  pallid  cheeks,  Falconbridge  was  passing  through 
that  baptism  of  silent  agony  which  sprickles  the  hair  04 
youth  with  gray. 

As  if  to  mock  him,  the  face  of  nature  was  serene  and  be- 
nignant. The  chill  winds  had  passed  away — and  that  sea- 
son which  is  called  the  "  Indian  Summer  had  arrived.  The 
landscape  was  still,  and  bathed  in  imperceptible  floods  of 
vapor — every  outline  was  rounded,  every  angle  had  disap- 
peared— the  soft  mellow  haze  rested  like  a  veil  of  gauze  on 
the  distant  mountains,  the  prairie  and  the  forest.  A  dreamy 
and  mild  influence  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  scene,  and 
the  genius  of  silence  and  repose  was  enthroned,  where 
lately  the  fresh  breezes  of  October  careered  onward^  rart* 
Uiig  the  dry  leavM. 


Tiiii:  MABTEB  OF  aBEENWAY  COURT- 


269 


But  the  young  man  scaorcely  observed  the  change.  Eii 
own  thoughts  made  the  world  in  which  he  moved.  An 
irresistible  sadness  invaded,  and  took  possession  of  him;  and 
he  went  along,  unconscious  of  the  landscape  around  hiia, 
dead  to  all  but  his  own  sombre  meditations. 

When  Sir  John  stopped  at  the  door,  now  so  well  known 
find  familiar,  his  master  looked  up  with  a  vagTie,  absent 
wonder.  Then  slowly  dismounting,  he  affixed  his  bridle  to 
a  bough,  and  approached. 

He  knocked  at  the  door — ^no  one  answered.  But  hearing 
the  sound  of  voices  in  the  apartment  to  the  right,  which 
was  used  as  a  sitting-room,  he  turned  the  knob,  and  en* 
tered. 

The  sight  which  greeted  him  sent  the  blood  violently  to 
his  heart,  and  an  irresistible  shudder  ran  through  his  frame. 
He  leaned  against  the  frame-work  of  the  door  for  support, 
as  though  his  limbs  were  about  to  fail  him. 

In  the  middle  of  the  apartment  Mr.  Axgal  was  holding, 
with  a  vigorous  grasp,  both  wrists  of  his  daughter,  and  en- 
deavoring to  soothe  her.  It  was  the  appearance  of  the 
young  lady,  however,  which  made  Falconbridge  recoil, 
shuddering.  She  was  scarcely  recognizable.  Her  di-esa 
was  in  rude  disorder — her  black  hair  was  hanging  down  on 
her  naked  shoulders  in  tangled  masses,  and  the  fiery  dark 
eyes  which  burned  beneath  her  knit  brows,  were  filled  with 
&Q  expression  of  rage  and  wildness  which  was  teiTible.  The 
small  pearly  teeth  had  bit  the  writhing  lip  imtil  the  blood 
flowed — and  in  every  muscle  of  her  body,  as  in  her  face,  the 
visitor  discerned  an  awful  distortion. 

It  was  evidently  as  much  as  Mr.  Argal  could  do  to  hold 
her.  The  nervous  force  which  she  displayed  was  wonder- 
ful. The  soft  round  ;ir.uo  .soemed  endowed  with  the  strength 
of  a  giant — and  in  spite  ui  his  most  powerful  exertions,  the 
writhing  form  almost  escaped  from  her  father's  grasp. 

"  I  tell  you  r'  she  cried  hoarsely,  and  in  a  voice  which  thi 
Xoaxu<  man  did  not  reoognize  as  her  own;    I  tell  you  I  saw 


m 


FAIKFAX;  OB, 


him  last  night  1    He  was  lying  in  his  bloodl    His  ^fm 

called  to  me— I  will  go  to  him !" 

"  There,  daughter,  you  are  unwell,"  muttered  the  heayy- 
hearted  father,  in  a  voice  of  deep  anguish;  "don't  talk  so, 
and  sit  down." 

"  I  will  not  1   I  will  go !    There,  the  eyes  again  I*' 

"  It  is  your  fancy,  my  poor  child." 

"  My  fancy  1  It  is  false  1  I  teU  you  there  he  is  looking 
at  me — there  is  blood  on  his  bosom — blood  for  me  to  wip« 
away  I" 

"  My  poor  child  "  

"Let  me  go!" 

The  words  were  followed  by  a  superhuman  effort  to  dis- 
engage herself;  but  the  iron  grasp  was  not  relaxed. 

"  I  loved  him  I  I  never  loved  any  one  before  I  I  loved 
him  with  my  whole  heart — and  he  is  dead  I  That  man  killed 
him — ^he  is  gone  1" 

"  No,  my  child,"  murmured  the  poor  father,  who  had  ta- 
ken no  notice  of  the  young  man's  entrance,  "  he  is  not  dead 
— ^there  he  stands," 

"Tes,  I  see  him — ^it  is  his  spirit  I  He  is  coming  like 
Charles  Austin  to  call  me;  Edmund  I  Edmund  I  I  am  com- 
ing!" 

And  again  the  terrible  struggle  commenced.  The  sharp, 
white  teeth  caught  the  crimson  Hp  and  gnawed  it  cruelly — 
the  round,  supple  form  writhed  violently  in  the  grasp  of 
Mr.  Argal.  The  paroxysm  was  succeeded  by  an  interval  \>i 
comparative  quiet,  and  the  frame  of  the  young  lady  exhibit- 
ed evidences  of  exhaustion.  A  few  more  struggles  ensued, 
and  then  they  ceased.  Her  features  relaxed ;  the  burning 
eyes  filled  with  leaden  langour  ;  the  form  drooped  slowly, 
and  murmuring,  "  I  loved  him  only  I''  the  girl  fainted  in 
the  arms  of  her  father. 

Without  speaking,  he  bore  her  to  the  sofa,  and  placed 
her  unresisting  figure  on  the  cushioned  seat.  In  a  moment 
she  revived,  but  it  was  only  to  burst  into  tears,  and  sos 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  COXTBT. 


261 


hopelessly — she  was  plainly  unconscious  of  any  one's  pres- 
ence. Mr.  Argal  gazed  at  her  for  a  few  moments,  with  an 
expression  of  wretchedness,  mixed  with  tenderness  unut- 
terable: then  he  turned  and  approached  the  young  man. 

"  You  are  shocked  at  this  terrible  scene,  I  see  plainly, 
sir,"  he  said  in  a  low,  collected  voice;  "and  there  is  little 
eause  for  wonder  in  the  fact.  Pray  retire  with  me — I  havi 
ft  few  words  to  say  to  you." 

As  he  spoke,  Mr.  Argal  summoned  a  maid,  who  went 
quietly  to  the  side  of  her  mistress  with  the  air  of  one  who 
was  quite  familiar  with  such  scenes,  and  then  the  two  men 
went  out  into  the  small  porch.  The  youth  walked  in  a 
dream  as  it  were — his  mind  was  struggling — ^he  could  not 
thiTik  connectedly.  Mr.  Argal  placed  his  hand,  by  an  uncon- 
scious movement,  upon  his  heart,  and  mastering  his  agita- 
tion, said  in  a  low  voice,  full  of  gloomy  sorrow  : 

"  Mr.  Falconbridge,  you  hava  become  the  depositary  of  a 
terrible  secret  of  my  family.  Do  you  understand  what 
you  have  just  witnessed,  sir  ?'* 

"  No,"  came  from  the  white  lips,  in  a  tone  almost  inaudi- 
ble, "  I  do  not,  sir." 

"I  will  explain  it.    My  daughter  is  mad." 

The  words  sent  a  shudder  through  the  frame  of  Falcon- 
bridge,  and  his  face  turned  paler  than  that  of  a  corpse,  but 
he  said  nothing. 

"  The  fit  seized  her  to-day,  sir,*'  continued  Mr.  Argal, 
suppressing  a  groan;  "it  was  probably  occasioned  by  the 
affair  between  yourself  and  Lord  Fairfax,  which  the  servanta 
repeated." 

The  young  man  drew  a  long,  deep  breath,  but  was  still 
silent. 

"  And  now,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Argal,  slowly  r-ecovering 
his  calmness,  but  speaking  in  a  voice  of  heart-broken  woe; 
"  and  now,  sir,  I  owe  you  a  few  words  of  explanation,  if 
only  to  vindicate  my  own  character  in  this  affair,  from  the 
impatations  which  must  otherwise  rest  upon  me.   I  Trill  bo 


FiJBFAX,  OB, 


plain,  I  will  conceal  notbmg — ^for  I  speak  to  a  gentlamaa, 
and  a  man  of  honor.  I  will  keep  back  no  particular.  My 
daughter  has  been  subject  to  attacks  of  insanity,  sir,  from 
her  childhood.  It  was  not  a  defect  of  her  birth,  but  occa- 
ftioned  by  a  dangerous  fall  from  a  fruit-tree,  which  inflicted 
a  deep  wound  upon  her  head,  and  affected  the  brain.  Soon 
after  this  incident,  I  observed  the  indications  of  men- 
ial disease  Her  character,  which  had  before  been  as  open 
and  ingenuous  as  the  day,  became  secretive  and  subtile. 
She  would  look  sidewise  and  watch  the  persons  with  whom 
she  conversed,  and  store  away  in  hidden  places  little  objecta 
which  she  had  taken.  Then,  as  the  years  passed  on,  she 
changed  more  and  more — she  became  cruel  and  pitiless,  she, 
my  own  child !  who  had  been  a  very  angel  of  goodness  and 
tenderness — whose  hearfc  would  have  bled  at  the  suffering  of 
the  least  insect — she  grew  hard  and  unpitying  I"" 

A  low  moan  accompanied  the  words  of  the  poor  father; 
he  controlled  his  agony  with  difficulty,  but  resumed  : 

"The  strange  lustre  you  must  have  seen  in  my  child's 
eyes,  sir,  then  appeared.  They  glittered  with  a  morbid 
light — an  unnatural,  insane  ligbt^  1  It  was  the  misfortune 
of  a  poor  youth  to  be  attracted  by  their  brightness — ^ho 
loved  her,  and  when  she  dismissed  him,  at  the  momait 
when  one  of  her  paroxysms  was  approaching,  he  put  an 
and  to  himself  V 

Again  the  speaker  paused,  and  a  woful  contraction  of  the 
lip  showed  the  struggle  which  he  had  passed  through  be- 
fore revealing  these  things. 

"WeU,  to  go  on,  sir.  "When  she  heard  of  the  youth's 
death,  she  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  madness.  I  passed 
ibrough  a  scene  like  that  which  you  have  witnessed  to-day; 
it  made  me  twenty  years  older.  But  it  ended:  and  my 
dbild  returned  to  herself  again;  to  wring  her  hands  and 
weep,  and  exclaim  that  his  death  was  caused  by  her  act 
8he  wroto  to  the  youth's  brother  and  rival,  a  full  history  ol 
hm  XMHtal  aberration^  and  requested  him  to  never  apprcMMb 


rBE  JMASl^EE  Of  OOUBX.  23^ 


aei  a^iiL  So  that  terminated,  and  ioon  afterward  I  i:^ 
moved  hither.  I  now  come  to  the  scenes  connected  witit 
yourself,  sir;  and  I  acknowledge  in  advance  that  I  have 
been  guilty  of  a  criminal  weakness.  I  saw  your  attentions 
to  my  daughter,  and  feared  the  result.  But  I  could  not 
speak !  I  should  have  done  so,  as  a  man  of  common  hoa- 
esty — that  is  true,  sir — bat  I  could  not  1  Look  at  my  face, 
Mr.  Falconbridge !  See  the  vulture  that  is  gnawing  me !  I 
have  been  false  to  you — but  I  could  not  speak  1  Oh,  sir ! 
may  you  never  know  what  it  is  to  feel  this  awful  shame ! — 
to  be  drawn  one  way  by  your  honor,  and  another  way  bj 
love  for  a  poor  insane  child !  I  could  not  reveal  her  a^vful 
secret,  degrade  her  in  all  eyes,  make  her  name  the  laugh- 
ing stock  or  the  horror  of  every  one  1  I  could  not  brand 
my  own  child  in  your  eyes  with  th©  stigma  of  madness!  So 
T  paltered,  sir,  with  my  terrible  responsibihty.  i  said  to 
myself  thai  you  were  only  a  youth,  in  the  region  for  a  shoii 
time;  that  you  would  soon  go,  and  our  existence  be  forgot- 
ten. My  poor  child  denied  any  engagement  between  you — 
I  know  not  with  what  truth — I  do  not  ask,  sir.  Then  Lord 
Fairfax  9ppeared:  she  attracted  his  attention,  and  his  ad- 
miration. This  very  day  I  had  intended  to  go  and  tell  him 
what  I  have  told  you,  sir,  if  it  killed  me.  That  is  alL  I 
have  spoken,  Mi\  Falconbridge,  with  an  ejffort,  and  laboring 
under  an  agony  of  feeling  which  no  words  can  describe  !  It 
is  httle  to  declare  to  you  that  my  heart  is  broken — but  that 
is  beside  the  question.  I  know  not  whether  I  should  ever 
have  found  courage  to  tell  you  all,  if  you  had  not  chanced 
to  coyne  when  you  did.  But  you  know  all  now.  I  have 
striven  to  show  you  that  in  concealing  my  child's  condition  I 
did  not  act  with  deliberate  dishonor,  to  entrap  you.  Before 
my  Maker,  sir,  I  solemnly  declare  that  I  am  guiltless  at 
least  in  this.  I  was  weak,  my  heart  was  torn  with  £\Lam8 
and  anguish — I  could  not  speak !  I  should  have  fled  from 
the  country  with  my  daughter  on.  the  eve  of  her  nuptial»— 


264 


FjUBT  AX  ;  OB, 


With  heading  bosom  and  quivering  lij«i,  Mi.  Arg»I  waff 

silent  for  some  moments.    Then  he  added  : 

"I  have  now  told  you  everything,  sir,  and  I  feel  lem 
shame  than  before.  In  a  few  weeks  I  go  with  i^y  poor  child 
from  this  region — ^in  some  distant  land  we  may  bury  our 
shame  and  suffering.  Without  her,  I  should  have  no  life — 
she  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  the  world.  Speak  well  of  her, 
Mr.  Falconbridge — she  is  weak,  not  sinful  I — or  if  that  is 
impossible,  say  nothing  1  God  has  heavily  stricken  her, 
and  her  lot  has  been  a  terrible  one — do  not  add  to  its  dark- 
ness by  your  enmity  or  contempt !  After  all,  sir,  however 
much  she  may  hare  wronged  you,  she  is  a  woman,  a  mere 
girl,  and  should  excite  your  pity  1  You  heard  her  broken 
words — in  her  madness — she  loved  you — I  pray  you,  sir,  to 
forgive  m;;  poor  child  and  me." 

The  oken  and  agit  ated  voice  died  away,  and  no  sound 
was  hea-rd  but  the  flutter  of  a  single  leaf,  which  parted  from 
%  bough  of  the  oak  above,  and  pattered  down.  The  young 
man  remembered  that  sound  afterwards,  and  shuddered  at 
it.  To  the  strugghng  words  of  the  sorrowful  speaker  he 
made  no  immediate  reply;  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  his 
lips  refused  their  office.  At  last  he  mastered  his  emotion 
m  a  partial  degree,  and  in  a  tone  almost  inaudible,  said  : 

"Thanks  for  your  confidence,  Mr.  Argal.  I  am  so  far 
from  blaming  you  for  not  revealing  all  before,  that  I  honor 
and  respect  your  deep  love  and  tenderness,  and  think  I 
would  have  acted  as  you  did.  You  know  me  well  enough 
to  believe  me  when  I  say  that  all  this  shall  be  locked  up 
forever  in  my  breast,  I  need  scarcely  add  that  no  word 
against  you  or  your  daughter  shaD  ever  pass  my  lips.  From 
my  heart,  from  my  soul,  from  the  depths  of  my  soul,  sir,  I 
pity  and  sympathize  with  you !  Your  daughter  is  sacred  to 
me — it  is  as  a  child  that  I  shall  regard  her — my  heart  is 
broken  like  yours,  but  I  blpMie  no  one.  In  the  presence  ol 
ttiat  Gk>d,  sir,  who  afiSicted  your  child,  [  swear  to  guard  hei 


THE  MASTER  OF  aREENWAT  COURT. 


inaoae  from  reproach  or  wrong,    I  haA'O  nothing  to  forgive 
if  I  had,  I  should  forgive  htr,*' 

He  heid  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  a  long  pressure 
was  exchanged.  As  the  two  hands  were  thus  clasped,  a  low 
gob  at  the  elbow  of  the  young  man  made  him  start  and 
tremble.  He  turned  and  saw  Miss  Argal  standing  motion 
less  in  the  doorway,  and  holding  toward  him  his  mother's 
ring.  Her  face  was  wet  with  tears — her  eyes  swam  as  she 
gazed  at  him;  she  murmured,  rather  than  said  : 

"  This  is  your  ring,  sir — I  have  deceived  you.  Will  you 
forgive  me  ?" 

The  words  were  followed  by  a  quiver  of  the  bleeding  lip, 
and  bursting  into  tears,  the  young  lady  placed  her  handker- 
chief to  her  eyes,  and  went  hastily  to  her  chamber. 

Falconbridge  stood  looking  after  her,  with  the  ring  in  his 
hand,  and  never  did  the  countenance  of  a  human  being  ex- 
press more  unutterable  anguish.  He  leaned  against  the 
pillar  of  the  portico  for  support,  and  uttered  a  groan  of  such 
despairing  wretchedness,  that  it  seemed  to  tear  its  way  from 
the  very  depths  of  his  being,  and  compress  the  woe  of  years 
into  a  second. 

Then,  making  a  slight  movement  with  his  head  toward 
Mr.  Argal,  he  slowly  went  and  mounted  his  horse.  The 
bridle  lay  untouched  upon  the  neck  of  the  animal,  and  Fal- 
conbridge did  not  speak  to  or  direct  him. 

Sir  John  took  the  road  at  a  gallop  toward  the  Ordinary. 
'The  rider  seemed  to  be  dreaming.  His  shoulders  bent  for- 
ward; his  chin  rested  on  his  breast;  from  time  to  time  he 
passed  his  hand  wearily  across  his  forehead,  and  gazed  ab- 
sently around  him. 

The  animal  continued  his  headlong  gallop. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  Ordinary,  the  young  man  reeled  In 
the  saddle.  Overcome  by  vertigo,  he  would  have  fallen  tha 
next  moment  from  his  flying  animal,  when  the  bridle  waa 
suddenly  seized,  the  horse  thrown  on  his  haunches,  a;id  tha 
tnna  of  Ciiptais  Wagoner  caught  the  drooping  form. 


266 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


**  So  it  ends !"  cried  the  gloomy  and  sneering  voice  of  the 

soldier,  "all  is  over  1" 

Two  words  replied  to  him,  as  Falconbridge  fainted  -two 
wrordfl,  in  an  accent  of  unspeajtable  pity : 


m  1CA8TEB  OF  afiSENWAT  OOUBXL 


IX 

THE  APOLOOT. 

WO  or  three  days  have  passed.    It  is  a  beantifal 

morning  of  the  "Indian  Summer"  as  before. 
The  landscape  of  mountain  and  valley  is  repos- 
ing beneath  the  mellow  haze;  and  the  air  has 
that  dreamy  and  delightful  softness  which  inclines  the  heart 
to  reverie. 

Ilk  the  large  room  of  Grv^enway  Court,  Lord  Fairfax  is 
conversing  with  George  an^i  Cannie.  The  youth  had 
brought  the  girl  behind  him  from  the  Fort  on  the  preceding 
evening — they  had  spent  the  night — and  before  setting  out 
to  return,  Cannie  examined  the  objects  around  her,  with 
evident  interest. 

George  was  gazing  at  her  with  unconscious  earnestness. 
His  affection  for  the  girl  had  grown  deeper  and  stronger. 
As  he  came  to  know  her  better,  the  rare  charms  of  her 
mind  and  heart  had  enthralled  him.  Her  goodness  and 
simplicity,  and  absence  of  all  littleness,  irresistibly  attracted 
his  frank  nature;  and  the  unconscious  refinement  and  grace 
of  the  little  maiden,  riveted  the  influence  which  her  char- 
acter had  exerted  upon  the  boy.  He  thus  gazed  at  her 
with  a  fondness  which  was  plainly  uncontrollable,  and  the 
Earl  smiled  with  melancholy  pleasure  as  he  saw  the  youth's 
secret.  His  countenance  wore  the  old  expression  of  sor- 
rowful thought,  but  there  was  nothing  cynical  in  it  row. 
2Sh  grim  look  had  disappeared,  and  though  cheerfulness 
was  not  there,  still  the  face  was  more  pleasant  for  the 
diange.  He  leaned  back  in  his  arm-chair,  caressing  with 
0116  bwd  ibe  eolemn  head  of  a  huge  deer-hound  at  bis  side^ 


FAIRFAX  OR, 


aiid  his  gaze  wandered  absently  but  pleasantly  from  Q^orgi 
to  Cannie. 

"So,  you  like  my  house,  Cannie?"  he  said;  "my  old 
hunting-lodge  ?" 

"Tea,  sir—on,  yes,  I  mean  my  lord,"  returned  the  girl, 
•*I  have  been  looking  at  the  books  and  the  pictures  and  all 
They  remind  me  of  home." 

Of  home  ?  Do  you  remember  your  home  ?  Where  worn 
that?" 

"  In  the  Low  Country,  sir.  But  I  was  born  in  England.*' 
And  you  do  not  remember  England  ?" 

*'Very  slightly,  sir.  I  look  upon  Virginia  as  my  homew 
•nd  love  it — because  grandpapa  is  with  me.  He  is  all  I 
have." 

Tne  eyes  of  George  kerned  to  contradict  this  statement, 
but  he  said  nothing.  Then  a  sigh  from  the  Earl  made  him 
turn  his  head, 

"  You  are  right,  my  child,"  said  the  old  nobleman,  gazing 
at  Cannie  with  wistful  tenderness;  "our  real  home  is  the 
land  whore  the  heart  finds  its  rest.  'Tis  a  terrible  disease, 
what  is  called  home- sickness,  Cannie,  and  I've  feit  it,  aa 
many  others  have  done." 

Thd  quick  look  of  sympathy  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl  seemed 
to  touch  the  Earl,  and  he  continued  m  the  same  tone  of 
melancholy  softness: 

"  I  was  born  and  reared  in  England,  and  you  see  that  1 
am  living  now  in  another  land.  I  long  sometimes  to  look 
npon  the  familiar  old  scenes,  and  pluck  a  daisy  from  the  sod 
of  old  England,  my  mother  soil.  I  remember  the  same 
feeling  in  a  nobleman  of  my  acquaintance  who  was  exiled 
by  political  troubles  to  France.  His  name  was  Henry  St, 
John,  a  very  brilliant  person,  whom  you,  George,  have  read 
of,  I  am  sure,  and  it  may  be  Cannie,  also,  though  he's  long 
dead,  and  she's  very  young.  I  had  known  him  in  London, 
and  spent  many  delightful  hours  with  him — for  his  conver- 
sation was  wonderfully  attractive.    His  favorite  tripio  wat 


mi  HABPTKH  ^^F  ^REENWAT  OOTTim  XJ9 

"i 

fhe  superiority  of  a  strong  mind  to  misfortune — the  strength  i 

he  possessed  to  bear  up  against  obloquy  and  exile,  sua-  \ 

tained  by  his  own  thoughts  and  his  philosophy.    Well,  see  | 

how  it  ended.    I  went  to  visit  him  in  France,  and  a  more  ] 

unhappy  personage  I  have  rarely  seen.    All  his  philosophy  i 

was  gone — he  had  yielded.    '  The  burst  of  the  cloud  had  gone  < 

near  to  overwhelm  him,'  he  said  one  day  :  and  he  looked  • 

as  he  spoke  toward  the  cHffs  of  England,  as  a  child  does  to-  j 

ward  its  mother.    He  never  rested  in  his  efforts  to  regain  | 

his  home — and  sometimes  I  think  I  am  his  shadow  in  the  \ 

New  World.    I  would  return,  and  lay  my  bones  in  the  soil  | 

where  my  forefathers  sleep."  i 

The  Earl  was  silent  again,  absently  caressing  the  head  of  | 

the  great  deer-hound.  j 

"All  is  the  same,  however,  my  dear,"  he  added,  in  a  j 

moment,  "under  the  blue  skies  of  home,  or  the  stormj  j 

douds  of  distant  countries,  the  one  thing  is  to  be  honest  i 

and  true.    One  looks  down  on  us  who  governs  and  directs  j 

for  the  best — do  you  not  feel  that?"  \ 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir — my  lord,"  returned  Cannie,  to  whose  eyes 

the  sad  tones  of  the  old  cavalier  had  brought  tears,  "  indeed  j 

I  do,  and  that  is  enough  to  make  us  happy,  I  am  sure  1  In  ' 
the  mountaians  or  the  lowlands.  He  is  still  beside  us. 

Whether  we  are  buried  in  the  sands,  or  the  ocean,  it  is  still  \ 

the  same — as  Mr.  Falconbridge  said,  you  remember,  j 

George."  \ 

"Mr.  Falconbridge?"  murmured  the  Earl;   "do  you 
know  him,  then,  Cannie  ?" 

"Oh   yes,  sir — ^he  has  been  to  see  us,  and  I  could  not  ; 

help  loving  him.    His  face  is  so  kind  and  true-looking — and  i 

when  he  smiles  I  feel  as  if  it  was  sunshine."  I 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  Earl,  with  a  bright  light  in  Ms  ] 

eyes  which  made  his  face  pleasant  to  behold      '  M>  Fal-  ! 

bridge  is  truly  a  gentleman."  I 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  he  is.    I  loved  him  front  the  fir^  aiox^^t 
I  Mw  h\mJ* 


270 


FAIBFAX,  OB, 


"  He  loved  you  as  well,"  said  a  voice  behind  tbe  speaker. 

And  Falconbridge,  who  had  entered  without  attracting 
attention,  inclined  his  head  to  the  company.  In  a  moment 
the  girl,  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and 
caught  in  her  own  warm  httle  hand,  the  thin  hand  of  the 
young  man.  Then  she  gazed  into  his  eyes  with  a  wistfol 
look,  and  said: 

"You  are  very,  very  pale,  sir." 
Indeed  the  young  man  resembled  a  ghost  rather  than  a 
human  being.  All  the  laughing  pride  of  the  eye  and  lip 
had  vanished;  his  cheeks  had  lost  their  bloom,  and  were  fall- 
ing away;  an  unspeakable  sadness  stamx^ed  his  entire  coun- 
tenance and  bearing;  in  a  few  days  he  seemed  to  have  lived 
twenty  years.  As  he  smiled  now,  and  pressed  the  Httle 
hand  in  his  own,  there  was  something  so  touching  and  pa- 
thetic in  his  appearance,  that  Cannie  could  not  restrain  her 
tears. 

"  There,  there,  don't  cry,  my  dear,"  said  Falconbridge; 
"you  distress  me.  The  change  in  my  appearance  moves 
you,  I  suppose — but  'tis  nothing.  I  have  been  somewhat 
unwell,  but  am  better.    I  trust  your  lordship  is  weU." 

And  the  speaker  inclined  low,  with  stately  courtesy,  before 
the  Earl. 

"  Thanks — ^yes,  sir — very  well,"  replied  Lord  Fairfax,  who 
had  scarcely  moved,  and  stUl  regarded  his  visitor  with  evi- 
dent agitation.  But  there  was  nothing  hostile  in  his  emo- 
tion. On  the  contrary  a  strange  earnestness  and  softness 
characterized  his  bearing,  as  he  pointed  to  a  seat,  and 
bowed  low  to  his  guest. 

Many  thanks,  my  lord,"  returned  Falconbridge,  ^'  but 
my  visit  must  be  brief.  In  three  days  I  sLall  leave  this  re- 
gion, and  I  come  to  make  an  explanfition  to  your  lord- 
ship." 

The  Earl,  still  singularly  agitated,  glanced  uneasily  at 
QreoTge  and  Cannie.   The  two  young  persons  rose  w^'tk 


THE  MASTEB  OF  0REENWAY  JOUBT. 


271 


quick  courtesy,  and  would  have  retired,  but  Faloonbndge 
arrested  them  by  a  movement  of  his  hand. 

"No,  do  not  retire,"  he  said;  "my  explanation  is  not 
a  private  one — and  I  have  entire  confidence  in  you  both, 
George  and  Cannie.  Pray  remain,  then — and  now,  my 
lord,  for  my  business.  I  have  come  liither  to  say,  like  an 
honest  gentleman,  that  I  have  wronged  you,  and  to  beg 
you  to  pardon  me.  I  will  imitate  the  reserve  of  your  lord- 
ship on  the  mountain  yonder,  and  add  in  general  terma 
what  I  mean.  I  accused  you,  in  my  heart,  and  to  your  face, 
in  the  forest  there,  of  an  unworthy  and  dishonorable  action 
I  insulted  and  outraged  you,  and  forced  you  to  meet  me  in 
single  combat  I  am  truly  glad  at  the  issue  of  that  busi- 
ness, for  I  wronged  you,  not  intentionally,  but  no  less 
really.  Since  that  time,  I  have  discovered  my  error,  and 
your  innocence.  I  have  been  ill,  and  had  time  to  reflect. 
I  have  risen  from  my  sick  couch  to  come  and  say  to  your 
lordship,  that  I  am  sorry  for  my  words  and  for  my  actions 
— to  declare  my  conviction  of  your  irreproachable  honor — 
and  to  entreat  your  pardon  and  forgiveness." 

With  these  words  Falconbridge  bowed  low  again,  and  was 
silent. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  sir,"  replied  the  Earl,  almost 
eagerly;  "I  should  rather  sue  to  you — for  I  have  wounded 
you,  I  fear,  deeply  On  my  honor,  sir,  the  act  was  not  ma- 
licious— I  pray  you  to  forget  all,  and  receive  my  hand." 

There  was  something  earnest  and  noble  in  the  voice  of 
the  Earl  as  he  thus  spoke,  and  a  slight  color  came  to  the 
cheek  of  the  young  man.  He  took  the  proffered  hand,  and 
the  eyes  of  the  strange  rivals  met  in  one  long  look  of  deep 
meaning. 

"  I  shall  now  beg  your  lordship's  permission  to  retire,** 
said  Falconbridge.  "  I  am  not  well,  and  the  ride  hither  haa 
fatigued  me.  As  I  have  declared,  in  three  days  I  leave  this 
iountry.    This  will  be  my  farewell  to  your  lordship." 

1!hexi  tarmng  to  Qeorge  and  Cannie,  he  held  out  Isk 


272 


FAIRFAX  OB, 


hand,  with  the  melancholy  smile  Tvhich  had  excited  tht 
child*s  tears.  She  cried  again  as  she  took  it,  and  3eorg6 
bit  his  Up  to  conceal  his  emotion. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  seen  your  kind  face  again/'  he  said  to 
Cannie;  and  yours,  George,  though  I  trust  you'll  come  to 
see  me  before  I  go.  And  now,  good-bye.  I  salute  your 
lordship,  and  bid  you  farewell." 

In  spite  of  the  Earl's  hospitable  invitations  to  remain, 
which  were  uttered  with  great  earnestness,  the  young  man 
then  departed;  and  soon  afterwards  G-eorge  and  Cannie  set 
out  on  their  return  to  the  mountain. 

"In  three  days!"  murmured  the  Earl, — '^then  he  goes 
in  three  days  1  But  he  shall  not  I — no,  he  shall  not  I  How 
noble  he  is,  and  how  palel  Poor  boy,  my  heart  ached 
when  he  smiled  as  he  did.  In  three  days?  We  shall 
seel" 

As  the  Earl  spokd  thus,  Captain  Wagner  hastily  entered 
the  apartment. 


m  1U8TEB  or  OBEENWAT  COTTBK  t7S 


LIL 

THE  OOUBIERc 

HE  appearance  of  the  Borderer  indicated  new«  d 
importance. 
"  What  has  occurred  ?"  said  the  Earl. 
(( rpj^Q  rascals  are  coming !"  returned  Wagner, 
throwing  his  hat  on  the  table.    "  At  least  they  are  on  the 
way,  my  lord — ^the  Injuns  1" 

"  Ah !    What  of  them  ?    What  news  of  them  T 
"A  plenty,  and  too  much.    A  coui'ier  is  following  me, 
and  he'U  soon  relate  aU  to  your  lordship.    Well,  I  think 
we'll  have  stirring  times  at  last.    We'll  eat  'em,  or  be  eat  by 
'em,  or  I'm  a  dandy !" 

As  the  Borderer  spoke,  the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  was 
heard,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a  roughly-clad  settler  from  the 
frontier  entered,  and  bowed  low  to  the  Earl.  His  tidings 
were  soon  imparted.  The  Indians  had  crossed  the  Al- 
leghanies  two  days  before,  in  large  numbers,  and  had  laid 
waste  the  entire  South  Branch  manor,  kilhng  women  and 
children,  and  even  attacking  Fort  Pleasant  and  Edwards* 
Fort,  on  Cacaphon.  In  all  directions,  homes  were  blazing, 
fields  on  fire,  the  dead  bodies  of  the  settlers  and  their  fami- 
lies were  stretched  across  a  hundred  thresholds,  along  tha 
line  of  march  of  the  savages.  The  incursion  had  been  so 
sudden  that  no  preparation,  on  the  part  of  the  borderers, 
had  opposed  it;  and  the  whole  region  west  of  the  town  d 
Winchester  was  helpless  at  the  feet  of  the  advancing  enemy. 
Such  was  the  information  of  the  courier,  who  gave  his  ac- 
count with  long-drawn  breaths,  as  one  laboring  under 
gTMt  •xhaustioD.   In  fact  h%  had  ridden  night  and  day,  vxi 


274 


was  worn  out.  Old  Jolm  speedily  took  charge  of  him,  Is 
obedience  to  the  direction  of  his  master,  and  the  Captain 
»Mid  Lord  Fairfax  were  left  *^icne  together. 

"  Well/'  said  the  Earl,  his  swarthy  face  glowing;  "  well, 
Captain,  there  seems  every  probability  of  your  prediction 
being  verified.    WeTl  have  fighting,  and  that  speedily. 
What  are  the  defences  of  the  region  immediately 
of  Winchester?" 

"  Few  or  none,"  returned  fche  soldier,  knitting  his  brow 
and  reflecting:  "  there's  Pugh's,  and  Enoch's  and  Parker's 
Forts,  with  Edwards',  the  strongest.  Further  west,  toward 
Fort  Cumberland,  are  Pearsall's  and  Sellar's,  and  Fort 
Pleasant,  which  is  well  fortified.  But  these  are  passed. 
Its  dooms  unlucky,  my  lord — ^but  these  worthies  seem  to 
have  heard  nothing  of  the  inroad  until  it  was  on  'em,  and 
the  very  devil  will  be  to  pay,  or  I'm  a  dandy !  Where's  the 
map  ?  I  know  the  region  by  heart,  but  may  forget  some 
places  ?" 

The  Earl  drew  it  out  of  the  drawer,  and  they  were  soon 
poring  over  it.  The  result  was  discouraging.  The  forts 
mentioned  by  the  Captain  were  all  regularly  laid  down,  but 
no  others. 

"  There  are  plenty  of  cabins,"  said  the  Borderer,  frowning 
thoughtfully;  "but  they  are  shells  that  the  first  blow  will 
smash.  What  remains  ?  I  tell  your  lordship  I  have  never 
been  taken  more  aback.  Messengers  must,  however,  be 
sent  immediately  throughout  the  river  counties.  Ill  aa* 
Bemble  the  hunters  and  settlers  around  here  myself,  and 
then  let  the  bloody  scoundrels  look  out.  I  have  said  Fd 
eat  their  carcasses,  and  I'U  do  it,  or  my  name's  not  Wag* 
nerl" 

A  quick  discussion  of  the  details  then  took  place,  and  the 
plan  of  operations  was  agreed  upon.  In  t  wo  hours  couriora 
were  depai-ting  in  all  directions,  and  Captain  Wagner  him- 
self was  scouring  the  country,  to  assemble  the  settlers  in  th« 
iomediatd  vidnity* 


¥HX  MASTEB       aBEMWAI  OOUBT. 


376 


On  the  next  evening  a  messenger  arrived  with  the  intt^iii- 
gence  that  the  band  of  Indians  had  gone  in  an  opposite  11* 
rection,  toward  the  Potomac,  phindei^ing  and  burning  on 
their  march. 

"  111  go  after  'em,"  said  the  Captain,  who  had  returned 
from  his  long  ride;  "the  boys  will  assemble  at  Winchest«J 
to-morrow,  and  TU  take  command,  as  your  lordship  ha& 
directed." 

"  Such  is  my  wish,  Captain,"  returned  the  Earl,  "  and  thui 
we  may  take  breath  for  a  moment." 

"And  rU  take  some  Jamaica,  with  your  permission,  my 
lord,  or  zounds!  without  your  permission,  for  I*m  broke 
down !  I've  been  in  the  saddle  till  I  feel  as  if  I  grew  thera 
Fm  bow-legged,  or  the  devil  take  it !" 

Having  swallowed  his  Jamaica,  the  Captain  became  more 
tranquil,  and  listened  in  silence  to  the  Earl. 

"And  now  for  a  private  matter  of  my  own,"  said  the 
Earl.    "  Where  is  Mr.  Falconbridge,  Captain?" 

"At  the  Ordinary,  my  lord." 

"Does  he  return  to  the  Lowland?" 

"He!  return  to  the  Lowland!  Who?  Falconbridge f 
You  don't  know  him,  my  lord.  He's  a  good  heart  of  oak, 
and  you  ought  to  have  see  his  face  when  he  heard  of  the 
killing  of  the  women  and  children !  It  was  a  glorious  face, 
or  I'm  a  dandy!  The  very  devil  in  his  eyes.  You  don't 
know  that  man  as  I  know  him.  He  is  one  of  the  kindest 
and  softest-hearted  fellows  in  the  world,  but  I'd  rather  go 
through  fire  than  arouse  him !  He  go  to  the  Lowland,  with 
those  women  and  children  kicking  and  squalling  over  there, 
%&  the  bloody  scoundrels  slit  their  windpipes?  I  fancy  it! 
No  1  He'll  be  duly  in  the  ranks  to-moiTow,  and  I  woiddn'i 
give  a  sixpence  for  the  red  devil  that  meets  him  !" 

"  Good,  goocj  r  said  the  Earl,  with  glowing  cheeka, 
"  That  is  like  him,  Captain.  I  knew  it — I  was  sure  of  it} 
but  he  is  weak,  you  know — ^he  has  been  sock." 


176 


FAIHFAX;  OB, 


And  a  strange  pathos  was  discernible  in  the  tones  of  the 
Earl. 

"Sick  or  well,  he  is  with  ns,"  returned  the  GaptaixL 
"  Tour  lordship  seems  really  interested  in  him/' 
"  I  have  reason  to  be." 
"  How  so?" 

The  Earl  did  not  immediately  reply.  He  mused  and  heth 
itated.  Then  suddenly  his  irresolution  disappeared,  and 
turning  to  the  soldier,  he  said  : 

Captain,  did  you  not  think  the  scene  on  the  Fort  Moun- 
tain, on  the  day  of  our  duel,  a  very  strange  one?" 

"A  perfect  puzzle! — a  mystery!  Ive  been  racking  my 
brain  to  understand  it  ever  since." 

"WeU,  ru  teU  you  what  it  meant,"  repHedthe  Earl,  "il 
you  will  make  me  two  promises." 

"  Two  promises,  my  lord?" 

"Very  simple  ones.  The  first  is  to  guard  sacredly  what  I 
tell  you,  and  the  other  is  to  go  this  evening,  in  spite  of  your 
fatigue,  and  bring  Falconbridge  hither  to  sleep.  I  must 
Bee  him." 

"  I  promise  both,  my  lord — and  you  know  me.  When  a 
thing  is  told  to  me,  I  put  it  under  lock  and  key,  and  the 
rack  couldn't  get  me  to  tell  it.  I  don't  talk  in  my  sleep, 
and  Tve  carried  this  hatred  of  the  practice  of  gossiping  so 
far  that  I've  often  forgot  things  on  purpose.  I  knew  a  man 
once  who  always,  when  he  got  a  letter  headed  *  bum  this, 
Ht  one  corner  of  it  to  read  by.  He  read  the  last  line  as  th« 
flame  burnt  his  fingers.  That's  my  habit.  I  don't  repeat— 
I  forget." 

The  Earl  nodded,  well  satisfied,  and  said: 

"  I  can  trust  you,  Captain  Wagner.  I  ^ve  you  a  mark  ol 
this  entire  confidence  now.  I  wish  yoa  to  watch  over  and 
guard  the  person  whom  you  know  as  Falconbridge,  and  to 
explain  this  request,  I  am  about  to  give  you  m  brief  hi»> 
tory.  Are  we  wholly  a? one?" 


twt  yji^mai  or  chimjkwat  oocna  Sft 


The  Captaiu  rose  and  examined  the  doors  and  windows, 
then  returned  to  his  seat. 

"  Completely,  my  lord;  and  now  I  listen.  *  The  person  1 
know  as  Falconbridge  ?'   Hum  I" 

The  Earl  looked  into  the  fire  for  some  moments,  with 
thoughtful  gravity;  then  fixing  his  melancholy  eyes  upon 
the  Borderer,  commenced  the  narrative  which  he  had 
promised. 


8T8 


fiJBFAX;  0R» 


Lm. 

THE  BALL  IN  THE  RIGHT  SHOULDEB 

APTAIN,"  said  the  Earl,  with  that  look  of  deep 
sadness  which  made  his  countenance  at  times  so 
touching,  "my  life  has  been  more  or  less  un- 
happy from  its  commencement,  but  I  think  I 
jtiave  suffered,  within  the  last  month — nay,  within  a  few 
days — as  much  as,  or  more,  than  in  many  years  before.  I 
have  learned  what  is  one  of  the  most  sorrowful  things  in  all 
this  world — that  much  happiness  has  been  wrongfully  denied 
me  by  one  of  my  fellow-creatures — that  I  have  sighed  where 
I  might  have  smiled — that  the  heaven  above  me  has  been 
obscured  and  gloomy,  when  the  simple  act  of  a  simple  mor- 
tal might  have  dissipated  every  cloud,  and  made  the  sun 
shine  brightly  for  me. 

"  But  to  drop  these  generalities  and  come  to  my  naiTa^ 
tive.  It  will  not  be  long,  but  shall  contain  the  truth  and 
the  whole  truth.  Men  at  my  age  do  not  make  intimate 
confidences  for  the  pleasure  of  talking — and  yet  I  experi- 
ence something  Kke  pleasure,  sir,  in  the  thought  that  I  am 
about  to  unburden  my  mind  of  some  events  and  thoughts 
which  have  long  oppressed  it.  I  do  not  conceal,  neverthe- 
less, that  I  have  my  own  personal  object  in  this  matter  ;  1 
repeat  what  I  said  but  now,  that  I  wish  you  to  watch  over 
the  person  whom  you  know  by  the  name  of  Falconbridge — 
with  him  is  connected  all  that  I  shall  say. 

"  Listen,  sir.  I  was  bom  at  the  end  of  the  last  century, 
at  my  father's  house  of  'Denton,'  in  Yorkshire,  and  grew  up 
i&  eight  of  the  patrimonial  oaks  of  my  family — -in  the  famil- 
itsti  nifltie  Bc^mes  of  English  life.    My  father^  Thomm^  Lord 


THE  KASTEB  OF  GKEEKWAY  COOTT. 


279 


Fairfax,  tlie  fifth  of  the  name,  was  a  cold,  but  not  an  nnkind 
man;  mj  mother,  Catherine,  daughter  of  Lord  Culpeper, 
was  a  very  saint  on  earth.  Under  the  tuition  of  these  be- 
loved parents,  and  a  worthy  old  gentleman  who  lived  at 
Denton,  I  grew  to  the  age  of  seventeen;  when  I  was  sent  to 
the  University  of  Oxford.  There,  I  passed  through  the 
ordinary  routine  of  study,  and  neglect  of  study,  and  on 
leaving  the  University,  obtained  a  commission  in  the  royal 
regiment  o^  the  *  Blues.'  This,  however,  did  not  hold  me 
long.  I  resigned  my  commission  from  distaste  for  the  Life  of 
barracks,  and  plunged  into  the  whirlpool  of  London, 
My  rank  gave  me  access  to  the  finest  society  of  the  time, 
and  at  nineteen  I  had  become,  my  friends  informed  me,  one 
of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  a  maccaroni  to  be  found  in 
the  club-houses  and  drawing-rooms  of  the  capital.  I  en- 
joyed this  dissipated  mode  of  life  for  some  months,  mingling 
with  delight  in  the  political  and  literary  circles  which  were 
ornamented  by  the  presence  of  Bolingbroke,  Addison,  and 
other  hghts  of  the  day;  and  then,  wearied  out  with  play, 
vnth.  the  theatres,  with  fine  ladies,  and  simpering  beaux,  I 
retired  to  Denton,  and  became  a  country  gentleman  again. 

"  And  now  commences  the  series  of  events  which  I  design 
relating.  My  hfe  hitherto  had  been  gay  and  splendid — no 
cloud  had  crossed  the  bright  sky  of  my  youth  ;  in  the  bril- 
liant circles  of  London,  as  in  the  jovial  scenes  of  Oxford,  I 
had  basked  in  uninterrupted  sunshine,  and  never  given  a 
single  thought  to  care;  never  indulged  in  one  violent  oi 
discordant  emotion.  I  was  ere  long  to  learn  that  human 
life  cannot  glide  away  in  one  unbroken  current  of  limpid 
smoothness;  that  there  are  breakers  and  reefs  on  the  most 
smiling  coast,  which  the  most  experienced  pilot  cannot  al- 
ways avoid.  I  was  no  such  experienced  person,  I  need  not 
tell  you.  To  great  ignorance  of  the  world,  in  spite  of  my 
years  in  London,  I  added  an  excitable  and  headstrong  tempei 
when  aroused:  and  this  defect  of  my  blood  was  not  long  in 
rtrmling  iidelt    I  had  never  quuralled  with  a&j4KKlgr  ml 


Oxford  or  in  London:  in  both  places  1  had  Mved  amemg 

flcenes  which  are  often  disturbed  by  evil  passions;  but  I 
passed  through  intact.  I  had  gono  to  the  theatres,  and 
supped  with  wits  and  gallants,  played  tric-trac,  and  wan- 
dered forth  with  the  Mohocks  at  three  in  the  morning,  on 
their  revels  and  absurdities,  perpetrated  at  the  expense  ol 
the  watchmen  of  the  city;  all  this  I  passed  through  without 
once  drawing  ray  sword,  without  a  single  afiair;  how  was  I 
to  have  an  affair,  in  the  apparently  sluggish  scene  of  ¥crk- 
shire. 

"  There  was  a  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood  about  forty 
jears  of  age,  whose  name  was  Sir  William  Powys.  He  had 
once  possessed  a  very  fine  estate,  but  owing  to  his  want  of 
management,  and  the  extravagant  mode  of  living  which  he 
pursued,  this  great  property  had  gradually  melted  away. 
It  was  covered  with  mortgages,  by  means  of  which  Sir  Wil- 
liam had,  from  time  to  time,  raised  large  sums  of  money  to 
sustain  him  in  his  mode  of  Hving — and  among  the  holders 
of  these  mortgages  was  my  father.  He  was  neither  by  habit 
nor  inclination  a  money-lender,  and  long  resisted  the  request 
of  Sir  Wilham,  to  advance  him  a  large  sum  of  money  which 
had  gradually  been  saved  from  the  proceeds  of  the  Denton 
Estate.  At  last,  however,  he  yielded  to  the  soUcitations  of 
the  knight,  and  dehvered  to  him  the  sum,  taking  a  mortgage 
on  the  bulk  of  the  Powys  Court  manor.  This  had  happened 
a  year  or  two  before  my  arrival — and  just  before  I  came,  my 
father  had  foreclosed  the  mortgo^e,  and  forced  Sir  William 
to  alienate  almost  his  whole  property.  I  know  not  if  this 
action  of  my  father  was  harsh.  From  my  knowledge  of  his 
character,  as  from  the  general  tenor  of  his  life,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  he  proceeded  to  this  apparently  unkind  act,  in 
the  purest  defence  of  the  interests  of  his  family.  My  sister, 
lince  dead,  was  about  to  be  married,  and  a  settlement  was 
absolutely  required  on  the  part  of  the  Fairfax  fanuly.  Sir 
William  could  not,  or  would  not.  repay  the  money  borrowed 
*-«nd  as  I  hare  said«  the  mortgagee  was  foreclosed  He 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GEEENWAT  COTJBT.  281 

parted  with  his  property  without  any  overt  act  of  enmity  ; 
but  it  was  soon  whispered  throughout  the  shire,  that  the 
knight  denounced  my  father  at  his  own  table  and  elsewhere 
as  a  usurer,  a  Shylock,  a  Jew  money-lender,  and  in  othei' 
terms  equally  insulting. 

"I  need  scarcely  say,  sir,  that  this  intelligence  set  my 
blood  on  fire.  My  father  was  then  a  gray-  haired  man,  full 
of  years  ;  and  I  knew  that  he  was  physically  unable  to  right 
himself.  A  long,  well-spent  life,  it  is  true,  gave  the  lie  to 
these  base  insinuations  and  calumnies  ;  but  in  our  famih 
we  are  restive  under  insult,  no  matter  whether  it  injures  or 
not.  I  saw  my  father's  face  flush  more  than  once,  when 
these  expressions  were  unguardedly  alluded  to  in  his  pres- 
ence— and  I  longed  for  an  opportunity  to  revenge  upon  the 
calumniator  the  wrong  which  he  had  perpetrated  toward 
Lord  Fairfax,  I  was  determined  to  seek  him,  and  pick  a 
quarrel  upon  some  indifferent  ground:  and  then — said 
with  clenched  teeth — I  will  put  an  end  to  him,  or  he  shall 
put  an  end  to  me.'  An  opportunity  of  carrying  out  my  de- 
sign soon  presented  itself.  In  the  vicinity  of  Denton,  and 
not  far  from  Powys  Court,  was  the  race-course  of  the  county. 
Here,  upon  a  certain  day,  were  assembled  all  the  gentlemen 
and  ladies  of  the  region  around.  I  repaired  to  the  race- 
course early,  but  not  with  any  design  of  betting.  1  sought 
Sir  William  Powys,  who  would  attend  I  heard — and  I  was 
soon  gratified.  I  descried  his  tall  form  approaching  upon 
horseback,  in  the  midst  of  a  number  of  his  friends;  and  I 
even  now  recall  his  athletic  and  powerful  figure,  which  in 
bulk  of  muscle,  pride  of  carriage,  and  its  haughty  air  of  su- 
periority, threw  into  the  background  every  personage  about 
him.  He  dismounted  and  gave  his  bridle  to  a  groom. 
Then,  accompanied  by  his  friends,  he  approached  the  open 
Bpace  beneath  the  balcony,  which  was  filled  with  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  intent  on  the  coming  festivity.  The  horses,  in 
their  sweat-doths,  were  being  led  up  and  down;  a  hundred 
•omintfiti  were  made  by  the  crowd  who  inspected  thi»B| 


233 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


and  bets  were  o^ery  /roment  offered  and  taken  by  ihe  gen* 
fclemen  on  the  variorfi  racers  which  had  been  entered. 

"  I  approached  the  group,  in  the  midst  of  which  Sir  Wil- 
liam was  st^nc^ing  and  expatiating  upon  the  merits  of  the 
horses.    As  I  drew  near  I  heard  him  say; 

"  '  Three  to  one  on  the  bay — in  tens  or  hundreds/ 
"  *  Done,  Sir  William/  responded  the  gentleman  to  whom 
he  spoke,  and  who  was  an  acquaintance  of  mine.    His  imrna 
was  Sir  John  Colburn. 

congratulate  you,  Sir  John,'  I  said,  laughing;  *the 
bay's  a  miserable  hack,  and  will  probably  be  distanced  the 
first  heat.* 

I  saw  Sir  William  Powys  turn  as  if  an  adder  had  stung 
him.  He  was  proud  of  his  knowledge  of  horse-flesh;  indeed, 
it  was  one  of  his  weak  points — and  to  have  his  judgment 
thus  sneered  at,  and  by  a  mere  boy,  such  as  I  happened  to 
be,  enraged  him  profoimdly.  His  eye  flashed,  and  he  sur- 
veyed me  from  head  to  foot  with  a  glance  which  was  in- 
tended to  annihilate  me.  It  failed,  however.  I  have  a  fac- 
ulty of  my  blood  in  a  very  marked  degree — I  grow  cooler  aa 
I  become  more  exasperated.  I  hated  Sir  William  at  that 
moment,  mortally — and  I  replied  to  his  insulting  look  by  a 
satirical  smile.  This  heated  him  more  dangerously — I  saw 
his  chet'k  turn  crimson  with  anger. 

"*And  who  are  you,  sir!'  he  said,  in  a  tone  o\  excessive 
rudeness,  '  who  are  you,  that  presume  to  put  your  opinion 
iigainst  mine?' 

"  *  I  thought  you  knew  me,  sir,'  I  said,  with  perfect  cool- 
ness, '  as  I  remember  meeting  you  some  years  since.  Bui 
no  matter.  My  name  is  not  important — and  I  presume,  in 
Bpite  of  your  extreme  dissatisfaction,  to  say  that  in  my 
humble  opinion  the  bay  is  the  poorest  and  most  ludicrous 
horse  entered  ;  it  is  hard  to  look  at  him  without  laugh- 
ing in  fact — and  uo  one  but  a  tyro  would  bet  on  him.' 

"  'What  do  you  mean,  sir !'  said  Sir  William,  turning  white 
wiih  rage  at  my  tone  of  diadainfal  indi£[erencei  and  adraao* 


THE  ItASTER  OF  GBEENWAY  OOUBX. 


888 


lag  oloie  to  me  as  he  spoke,  'your  meaning,  sir  I — if  it  is  u 
insnlt  yen  intend  uttering,  this  horse-wliip  shall  teach 
you-1' 

"  In  an  instant  we  had  grappled.  I  had  designed  nothing 
of  the  sort;  but  the  sight  of  the  degrading  instrument 
raised  above  my  head,  aroused  the  devil  in  me,  and  made 
me  wild.  I  caught  at  it,  fully  intending  to  wrench  it  away, 
and  apply  it  to  his  own  person — and  in  a  moment  we  were 
locked  in  a  furious  embrace.  We  were  parted  immediately 
by  the  bystanders,  who  rushed  to  us  with  loud  exclamations 
— and  a  glance  at  the  balcony  above  showed  me  that  a  young 
lady  had  fainted,  and  was  being  borne  out. 

"  *  Who — ^is — this  person  ?'  panted  Sir  William,  with  power- 
less fury  ;  'had  my  right  arm  been  unm aimed  I  would  have 
punished  Lis  insolence!'  And  he  glared  at  me  wildly,  and 
would  have  tried  to  strike  me  again,  had  not  his  friends  re- 
strained him  and  told  him  my  name. 

"*Tom  Fairfax!  Tom  Faii-fax!'  he  muttered,  with 
denched  teeth  ; '  very  well  1  this  may  be  arranged  elsewhere  I 
Ahl  a  Fairfax,  is  it  r 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  I  repUed  scornfully,  '  my  name  is  Fairfax,  al^ 
most  or  quite  as  good  a  name  as  your  own,  and  you  shall 
not  have  to  wait  very  long  for  the  "  arrangement "  you  de- 
sire T 

"  With  these  words  we  exchanged  ceremonious  bows,  and 
separated — Sir  John  Colburn  accompanying  me.  In  three 
hours  aU  was  '  arranged '  as  I  had  promised.  We  were  to 
meet  with  pistols,  at  a  spot  near  the  race-course,  which  had 
been  agreed  on.  The  objection  to  the  use  of  short-swordji 
lay  in  the  condition  of  Sir  William's  right  arm — he  had  been 
kicked  a  short  tiiae  before  by  one  of  his  horses,  and  some- 
what disabled.  He  insisted  very  generously  and  fearlessly 
upon  swords,  but  bis  second  overruled  him,  and  pistols  were 
decided  upon. 

"  Well,  not  to  lengthen  my  narrative  unduly — we  met :  at 
tkdft  first  fire  mj  b&U  penetrated  his  ri^ht  shoulderi  w4  89 


S84 


FAIRrAX;  OB, 


great  was  the  agony  whicli  it  caused  him,  that  he  fell,  anc 
fainted  from  loss  of  blood.  His  ball  did  not  touch  me 
The  duel  ended  thus,  and  Sir  William  was  borne  home  in 
his  carriage.  It  was  his  daughter  who  had  fainted  in  th< 
balcony. 

"  So  terminated/'  continued  the  Earl,  "an  affair  which 
was  recalled  to  my  recollection  in  a  very  strange  manner 
some  time  since — ^in  the  Ordinary  yonder.    But  to  resume. 
I  returned  home  only  half  pleased  with  the  issue.    Such  is 
the  depravity  of  the  human  heart,  and  to  such  a  height  had 
I  been  aroused  by  the  wrong  done  my  father,  that — am 
sorry  to  say  it,  but  I  must  be  candid — I  thirsted  for  my  en- 
emy's blood.    For  the  present,  however,  this  desire  was 
doomed  to  disappointment.    I  reflected — but  on  the  very 
next  day  a  new  means  presented  itself.    Sir  William's  fam- 
ily consisted  of  a  son  and  a  daughter — Edith  and  Arthur, 
who  were  twins  : — ^well,  Arthur,  on  the  morning  after  my 
duel  with  his  father,  sent  me  a  challenge,  which  I  accepted 
at  once.    He  was  a  few  months  younger  than  myself,  but 
was  reputed  to  be  an  excellent  swordsman.    I  referred  his 
friend  to  Sir  John  Colburn,  and  everything  was  soon  agreed 
upon — but  the  matter  was  all  at  once  arrested.    My  father 
had  remonstrated  with  me  strongly  for  my  affair  with  Sir 
WiUiam,  and  begged  me  to  avoid  in  future  any  occasion  of 
renewing  the  quarrel.    If  I  insisted  upon  fighting  he  would 
meet  Sir  William  himself.    He  soon  found  out  my  design  of 
meeting  Arthur  Powys,  and  rode  hastily  to  Powys  Court 
There  had  never  been  any  open  quarrel  between  the  two— 
and  their  meeting,  I  afterwards  heard,  was  amicable.  The 
consequence  of  the  visit  was,  that  the  elders  forbade  the 
juniors,  on  pain  of  their  displeasure  and  forfeit  of  affection, 
to  proceed  in  the  matter.    In  the  end,  both  Arthur  and  my- 
self were  summoned  to  the  side  of  the  sick  man — and  Sir 
William  very  nobly  apologized  for  his  insult  to  me  on  the 
race-course. 

^^SMd  I  known  you,  air/  ha  MdcU  *I  ihoald  MTir  hmm 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAY  OOtVt.  S88 


been  guilty  of  the  act  of  raising  a  horse-wliip  to  strike  yon 
—that,  I  need  not  say.  I  saw  no  indication  of  your  rank 
or  family — and  now  beg  to  say  to  you,  that  I  deeply  regret 
the  whole  occurrence,  as  I  regret  some  very  inconsiderate 
and  ill-advised  expressions  which  I  doubt  not,  really  led 
you  to  provoke  me  into  a  quarrel.  There  must  be  no  more 
contention.  Viscount,  and  if  you  refuse  me  this  request,  1 
shall  rise  from  my  sick  couch  and  meet  yoii  when  you  will 
— ^if  you  require  me,  this  moment." 

"  This  speech  ended  all.  The  apology  for  the  hasty  reflec- 
tions upon  my  father  calmed  me  somewhat,  and  the  matter 
terminated  by  the  withdrawal  of  Arthur's  challenge. 

Ten  days  afterwards  I  was  out  fox-hunting  with  a  num- 
ber of  gentlemen,  among  whom  was  Arthur  Powys.  We 
were  separated  from  the  rest,  and  rode  side  by  side  at  a 
great  pace.  We  came  to  a  bad  fence — ^Arthur's  horse  rolled 
into  a  ditch,  and  he  fell  beneath.  I  drew  up  quickly,  and 
dismounted.  His  leg  was  cruelly  fractured,  and  taking  h\rn 
in  my  arms  like  a  child,  I  held  him  on  the  saddle,  and 
slowly  conveyed  him  to  Powys  Court.  As  I  entered  the  last 
gateway,  the  insensible  figure  resting  upon  my  bosom,  the 
pale  face  near  my  own,  I  saw  a  young  lady  rush  out,  wild 
with  terror,  and  hasten  toward  me,  weeping.  It  was  Edith 
Powys,  who  received  from  my  arms  the  uneonscious  torn 
of  her  brother. 

Our  handfi  touched:  it  was  the  first  time 


\ 

286 


CHAPTEE  LUL 

THE  CEiaiNiLLS  OF  THE  PORTRAIT. 

ITH  this  incident,"  the  Earl  gravely  ec'sikiiBtiddj 
"  commenced  my  new  life.  From  that  moment, 
when  she  came  crying  to  take  the  young  man 
upon  her  bosom,  I  loved  Edith  Powys  with  all 
the  ardor  of  youth  and  romance.  I  do  not  scoff  at  it,  or 
laugh,  as  some  persons  I  think  do ;  love  to  me,  sir,  has  been 
a  blessed  reality,  and  solace — the  supreme  comfort  and 
charm  of  my  existence.  I  have  known  many  sneer  at  wo- 
men, and  at  the  passion  of  pure  love — for  myself  I  regard  it 
with  a  sacred  wonder,  and  kneel  almost  humbly  before  a 
true-hearted  girl,  be  she  the  peasant  maid  or  queen  on  her 
throne.  Oh  no,  sir !  women  are  capricious — they  are  fanci- 
ful— they  have  many  great  weaknesses — but  at  the  bottom 
of  all  the  folly  which  appears  in  many  of  them,  there  is 
purest  gold ! 

"  Well  I  loved  Edith  Powys— she  is  with  me  still,  though 
long  years  have  fled  over  me,  and  dulled  my  heart,  since 
the  day  when  I  buried  her  beneath  the  spring  violets  at 
Denton.  It  was  the  decree  of  an  All-merciful  being  that 
she  should  love  me  too — in  spite  of  all  her  prepossessions 
against  me.  She  often  told  me  afterwards  that  her  senti- 
ment toward  me,  on  the  day  when  I  grappled  with  her 
father  in  front  of  the  balcony  on  the  race-course,  was  pure 
hatred — and  that  she  had  registered  a  vow  never  to  have 
any  otker  for  me.  But  the  sight  of  her  brother  bleeding 
in  my  arms — pressed  to  my  he::rt-— this  touclied  her  and 
paved  the  way  for  the  entrance  of  less  bitter  feelings;  ami 
ttiMi  love  came  to  answer  the  love  I  felt  for  hm 


THE  MASTER  OF  GBEENWAY  COUBT. 


287 


"Powys  Court  was  bo  longer  closed  against  me  now. 
Thanks  to  the  incident  which  I  have  related,  entrance  waa 
freely  accorded  me.  1  had  really  conceived  a  strong  friend- 
ship for  Arthur — ^first  from  the  fact  that  we  never  afterward 
look  indifferently  upon  a  person  whom  we  have  been  kind 
to — whose  weak  form  we  have  carried  in  our  arms— and 
secondly,  fr-om  another  atid  equally  natural  circumstance. 
The  brother  and  sister  were  not  only  twins — they  were  the 
most  extraordinary  copies  of  each  other.  Both  had  delicate 
features — the  same  clear,  fr*ank  eyes — the  same  hps  full  of 
laughing  pride — the  same  soft  brown  hair.  Had  Edith  as- 
sumed the  costume  of  her  brother,  you  would  have  said, 
that  a  miniature  Arthur  Powys  stood  before  you.  Had  the 
brother  donned  a  female  dress,  Edith,  larger  it  is  true,  and 
more  masculine,  but  still  Edith,  would  have  looked  at  you 
with  the  smile  of  her  brother. 

"  I  have  a  portrait  of  the  young  man,  painted  some  years 
after  these  events — 'tis  up  stairs  over  the  fireplace  of  one  of 
the  bed-chambers.  I  scarce  dare  to  look  at  it  when  melan- 
choly oppresses  me — for  the  resemblance  to  Edith  Po\vy8 
sends  a  thrill  of  bitter  anguish  through  my  heart,  and  I  re- 
call aU  the  past,  as  I  gaze  !  To  continue:  I  say  that  this 
singular  resemblance  between  the  young  man  and  the  young 
lady,  insensibly  drew  me  to  his  side.  In  his  company  I  was 
almost  enjoying  the  society  of  his  sister.  I  availed  myself 
of  the  incident  which  had  bound  us  together,  and  went 
regularly  to  ask  after  his  health.  He  soon  improved.  The 
fracture  was  painful,  but  yielded  to  the  treatment  of  the 
physicians,  and  he  was  soon  limping  about  the  house  again 
•—leaning  on  my  shoulder  or  his  sister's,  and  smiling  as  be- 
fore. He  was  a  noble  youth — one  of  the  truest  hearts  Fve 
•ver  known.  He  soon  came  to  look  upon  me  with  affection 
and  confidence,  and  the  feud  between  the  houses  of  Faii'fax 
and  Powys  seemed  destined  to  terminate  with  the  elders. 

**But  I  had  calculated  without  my  host  Sir  Williara 
Powys  was  oae  ot  tkose  men  who  ueyer  torgivd.  He  might 


S88 


FAntFAX;  OB, 


waive  his  enmity,  for  the  occasion,  and  even  ntter  words  ol 
courtesy  and  good  humor — ^but  beneath  all  this  was  the  im- 
placable memory — the  rooted  and  ineradicable  recollection 
of  his  real  or  fancied  wrong.  It  thus  happened  that  the 
keen-eyed  knight  watched  the  growing  intimacy  between 
myself  and  his  daughter  with  ill-disguised  disapprobation 
and  oppoftUjon.  He  was  too  well  bred  to  refuse  her  hand 
before  I  nad  asked  it;  and  evidently  writhed  with  secret 
anger  at  the  past.  As  my  object  in  visiting  Powys  Court 
became  plainer  and  plainer,  and  the  artless  afiection  of  the 
yoimg  lady  was  less  disguised,  the  Knight's  dissatisfaction 
grew  more  intense.  I  saw  it,  and  ground  my  teeth  as  I 
thought  of  it,  often — ^but  that  was  all.  In  the  depths  of  my 
heart  I  think  I  really  respected  him  more  for  it — for  his  loy- 
alty  to  the  family  feud  and  the  dislike  he  exhibited  and 
plainly  experienced,  to  a  match  between  his  daughter  and  a 
person,  his  social  superior.  He  was  only  a  baronet,  and  his 
possessions  were  reduced  to  nothing  nearly — ^but  he  never- 
theless opposed  bitterly  the  union  of  his  child  with  one  who 
would  soon  be  Earl  of  Faii*fax  and  Baron  of  Cameron,  with 
ample  means  of  keeping  up  both  titles.  Indeed  there  was 
nothing  small  or  mean  about  Sir  WiUiam  Powys.  If  he 
ever  committed  an  action  which  seemed  to  indicate  those 
qualities,  you  had  only  to  search  deeper,  and  a  more  noble 
passion  would  reveal  itseK.  The  craving  for  vengeance 
might  induce  him  to  act  basely — but  mere  paltry  love  of 
gain  never  could. 

*  Thus,  to  return,  I  was  obliged  stiU  to  respect  the  knight, 
in  spite  of  my  bitter  feelings  at  his  manifest  opposition.  I 
tried  to  sof  tem  him — ^it  was  all  in  vain.  Edith  and  Arthur 
became  my  advocates,  and  would  sound  my  praises.  Tha 
baronet  only  sneered,  and  asked  if  both  of  them  were  in 
love  with  me.  Thus  things  went  on  until  I  could  no  longer 
control  myself.  I  went  to  Sir  William  one  day — confessed 
my  affection  for  his  daughter — and  requested  his  permisnon 
to  pav  my  addresses. 


209 


*•  *  My  permission^  sir  T  he  said,  with  a  bitter  latlgb,  *wliy 
Iruly  you  are  a  very  entertaining  person.' 
"  *  Sir  William !'  I  exclaimed. 

"  *0h!  don't  let  us  argue,'  he  replied,  'I'm  not  rach  a 
dunce,  sir,  as  not  to  see  beyond  my  nose.  I  have  observed 
what  has  taken  place  in  my  house  for  some  months  past,  and 
I  therefore  say  that  your  addresses  have  been  paid  without 
ceremony,  and  without  my  leave,  sir  1  You  will  judge  your- 
•elf  if  the  act  was  not  dishonorable  1' 

"  His  face  began  to  flush — and  my  own  as  darkly. 

"  *  Sir  William,'  I  said,  '  you  have  wronged  and  insulted 
me  1  It  is  not  becoming  to  do  so,  when  I  hold  the  positioa 
toward  you  which  I  do.  And  permit  me  to  say,  sir,  that  1 
have  done  nothing  unworthy  of  the  name  I  bear — of  the 
name  of  Fairfax,  which  is  as  old  and  as  honorable  as  that 
of  Powys ! 

"  His  reply  was  a  burst  of  rage.  The  comparison  of  the 
two  names  seemed  to  arouse  aU  his  old  enmity.  He  gnashed 
bis  teeth,  and  seemed  about  to  offer  me  some  outrage. 

had  dared  to  come  into  his  house,  he  said,  and  wile  away 
the  heart  of  his  daughter — and  his  son.  Under  the  mask  of 
friendship  I  had  beguiled  her  affections,  and  now  came  im- 
pudently to  ask  permission  to  pay  my  addresses.  No!  I 
should  not  have  his  consent !  I  should  never  marry  his 
daughter !  No  person  who  bore  the  detested  name  of  Fair- 
fax should  wed  with  one  of  the  family  of  Powys  !  He  had 
intended  to  express  to  his  daughter  plainly,  his  feelings  on 
the  subject  long  before — ^but  pride  restrained  him.  He  had 
hoped  that  her  sense  of  what  was  due  to  himself,  as  well  aa 
the  blood  which  ran  in  her  veins,  would  preserve  her  from 
yielding  to  this  miserable  infatuation!  But  he  would  no 
longer  preserve  silence  I  He  would  speak  his  mind  plainly  1 
Then,  if  she  chose,  she  might  marry  me  and  welcome  I  She 
would  at  least  have  his  curse  for  a  dower ! 

"The  baronet  uttered  all  this  and  much  more  with  a 
fery  wrath  and  indignation  which  seemed  to  increase  as  he 

13 


m 


FATRFAX;  OR, 


proceeded.  When  his  speech  ended,  he  was  furiotw,  alii 
r^i  with  anger.    I  was  pale. 

"  *  Sir  William  Powys/  I  said,  with  a  sinking  heart,  but  a 
collected  voice,  *you  have  done  what  gentlemen  seldom  do 
— insulted  a  visitor  in  your  own  house !  But  I  have  no  in- 
Bult  to  hurl  back  in  return.  Tou  know  well  that  I  cannoi 
answer  you — ^you  know  why.  I  scorn  to  reply  to  your 
cliarges  of  dishonor — they  fall  harmless,  for  they  are  unjust 
and  unfounded,  as  you  know.  I  shall  now  go,  sir — this  in^ 
terview  ends  all,  as  you  desire.  I  will  intrude  myself  upon 
no  family  which  scorns  me — you  need  fear  nothing,  sir — ^it 
will  not  be  necessary  to  curse  your  daughter.' 

**And  I  bowed  and  went  away.  On  the  portico  I  met 
Edith.  She  was  as  pale  as  death.  She  had  heard  all 
through  the  open  window.  With  a  quivering  lip  she  held 
out  her  hand,  I  pressed  it  to  my  lips  with  a  groan,  and 
rode  away,  at  a  gallop,  with  a  choking  sensation  in  my 
throat.  I  had  acted  as  a  gentleman  of  the  house  of  Fair- 
fax should  act — but  my  heart  was  almost  broken  in  th6 
struggle. 

"  I  will  hasten  on  in  my  narrative.  ^Vhen  eld  evenU  » 
tom  they  begmle  me  into  unending  details." 


THB  MASTBB  OP  GBEENWAT  OOTTTOl 


291 


WHAT  THB  PACKAGE  TOKN  BY  THK  BEAH  CONTAXBnEO. 

FEW  months  afterward,  Editli  Powys  had  b®^ 
come  my  wife  :— my  father  and  mother  wer« 
both  dead : — I  was  the  head  of  the  hoasa, 
tShough  I  had  not  reached  my  majority." 
The  Earl  paused  as  he  uttered  these  words,  and  a  deep 
sigh  issued  from  the  depths  of  his  heori    These  memoriea 
evidently  agitated  him  profoundly — ^l)ut   controlling  his 
emotion,  he  continued  his  narrative. 

"  I  shall  not  pause  to  speak  of  the  grief  I  experienced  at 
the  loss  of  my  parents — ^upon  that  subject  I  do  not  hke  to 
Bay  anything.  I  shall  confine  my  attention  to  the  events 
which  I  wish  to  relate.  The  explanation  of  my  marriage 
will  not  be  either  difficult  or  lencrthy.  From  the  day  on 
which  I  held  the  angxy  interview  with  Sir  William  Powys, 
the  relations  between  himself,  and  his  son  and  daughter, 
liad  greatly  changed.  A  mutual  coldness  sprung  up.  Th« 
father  regarded  the  daughter  as  a  rebel  against  his  author- 
ity— an  unworthy  scion  of  the  house  of  Powys.  The  daugh- 
ter— with  what  justice  you  must  decide—considered  her 
father  harsh  and  unjust.  The  insults  which  he  had  heaped 
upon  an  unoffending  gentleman,  aroused  her  nice  sense  of 
fairness  and  justice,  and  his  coldness  toward  herself  revolted 
her  pride  and  self-respoci ;  in  a  word,  the  family  at  Fowjn 
Court  were  divided,  a:  1  marshalled  on  opposite  sidea 
Arthur  sided  with  his  sister.  He  was  never,  in  the  remot<  st 
degree,  discourteous  to  his  father;  but  a  thousand  trifli  ig 
inddeuts  indioated  hid  opinion  of  the  amount  of  blame  i^ 


t9S 


fASMAX\  dtti 


fcaching  to  eack.    Under  this  household  discord,  the  batt)ii6i 

writhed  vainly.  There  was  nothing  to  find  fault  with,  no 
disrespect  ever  was  shown  him,  much  less  any  disobedience 
his  orders  and  requests  were  all  sedulously  compUed  with, 
and  no  word  of  complaint  was  uttered.  But  the  skeleton 
was  there.  In  the  eyes  of  the  young  man  and  his  sister, 
the  knight  read  as  plainly  as  in  a  printed  book,  changed 
feeling,  cookiess,  the  revolt  against  injustice.  The  baronet 
endured  it  in  wrathml  silence — but  he  endured  it.  It  broke 
the  health  of  his  daughter.  She  could  not  preserve  hei 
feeling  toward  her  father  without  bleeding  inwardly — ^her 
cheek  became  paler  and  paler — she  grew  ill.  Then  she  did 
not  rise  from  her  couch,  and  the  tragedy  approached  ita 
catastrophe.  The  baronet  went  to  see  her  one  morning, 
and  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  burst  into 
tears.  She  could  not  go  on  feeUng  toward  him,  she 
said:  it  would  kiU  her;  she  loved  hifii  jaore  than  her  life; 
he  was  her  own  dear  father,  and  she  had  been  sinful. — Then 
her  voice  was  choked  with  sobs.  AU  the  tenderness  so 
long  pent  up  in  the  heart  of  the  baronet  responded.  He 
took  the  girl  to  his  heart,  gazed  with  apprehension  upon 
her  white  worn  cheeks,  and  groaned  aloud.  An  hour  after- 
ward he  had  passed  through  the  great  struggle  between  his 
a£fection  and  his  pride.  He  came  to  Denton  and  begged 
me  to  pardon  his  harsh  words.  Would  I  ride  back  to 
Powys  Court  with  him?  He  set  his  teeth  close  as  he 
«poke,  and  breathed  heavily. 

"I  need  scarcely  say  that  I  acceded  to  the  invitation. 
The  weeks  which  had  elapsed,  had  nearly  killed  me — ^my 
health  and  strength  were  gone — I  was  the  mere  shadow  oi 
myself.  The  loss  of  Edith  had  nearly  broken  my  heart,  and 
I  moped  like  an  octogenarian.  Thus  I  had  no  pride  to  op- 
pose to  the  baronet.  I  think  my  face  flushed  with  delight. 
His  horse  scarcely  kept  up  with  my  own  as  we  rode  toward 
Powys  Court. 

^^I  did  not  Bee  Edith,  of  coursOi  but  I  saw  Arthur  He 


XHB  KASTBB  OP  OKKENWAT  OOTTBT. 


m 


jUiied  with  us;  and  I  could  read  in  his  frank  face  the  happi* 
ness  he  felt  at  the  event  of  the  morning.  The  baronet  wai 
sedulously  courteous  and  attentive  to  me  during  dinner,  an^ 
we  sat  long  at  the  table,  drinking  wine  and  talking  on  a 
variety  of  topics.  We  both  understood  that  the  whole  scene 
was  a  piece  of  acting — but  when  two  men  desire  mutually  to 
carry  on  a  drama,  there  is  no  failure  in  the  dialogue  or  the 
gesture.  I  knew  that  the  obdurate  father  had  relented;  that 
he  intended  Axthur  to  relate  everything  to  Edith;  and  he 
doubtless  knew  that  I  rated  his  sudden  courcesy  at  its  just 
value,  and  comprehended  its  design.  When  I  left  the  house, 
I  had  promised  to  return  in  a  few  days.  When  I  again 
entered  the  old  hall,  I  was  told  that  Edith  awaited  me  in 
the  drawing-room.  Arthur  handed  me  a  paper  as  he  said 
this,  smiling;  and  I  read  the  words : 

"  *I  consent  that  Viscoxmt  Fairfax  shaU  proceed  in  tho  matter  upon 
wMch  we  had,  some  months  since,  a  discussion,  if  it  stiU  be  the  desire 
o/  that  gentleman.  William  Powts.' 

"I  blushed  with  delight,  and  placing  the  paper  in  my 
bosom,  hastened  forward  toward  Edith,  who  came  to  meet 
me  with  a  faint  color  in  her  cheeks.  Let  me  not  speak 
farther  of  this  scene,  except  to  say  that  when  I  left  Powya 
Court,  late  in  the  evening,  the  young  lady  was  affianced  to 
me.    Six  months  afterward  we  were  married. 

"  I  now  speak  of  a  portion  of  my  Hfe,  which  stands  out 
clear  and  distinct  from  the  rest,  as  one  of  the  great 
mountain  headlands  here,  lit  by  the  sunset,  raises  its 
head  above  the  gloomy  valleys.  For  a  time  I  was  happy — 
wholly,  perfectly.  The  days  glided  away  like  hours,  and 
they  were  days  of  unalloyed  sunshine  :  for  I  loved  my  wife 
with  a  depth  of  tenderness  which  is  indescribable.  She 
bloomed  in  the  great  old  hall  at  Denton,  like  a  flower  of  the 
fpring;  blessing  me  with  her  sweet  smile,  and  tender  eyes, 
wid  adding  a  new  lustre  to  my  life.  Those  months  are  now 
mj  most  oherished  recollection;  I  go  away  from  the  lonely 


1 


^94  fAS}>Su3LX  ;  04,  I 

present,  and  live  again  in  the  'p^.st.    I  feel  her  Ji#»art  beat 

against  my  own,  and — I  wake  from  the  dream  to  stretch  i 

out  my  widowed  arms  and  utter  a  groan — for  she  is  past  j 

the  stars  I  I 

My  narrative  is  nearly  ended.  I  proceed  now  to  relate 
events  which  have  been  a  mystery  to  me  for  more  than  a 

qnai'ter  of  a  century — which  I  came  to  comprehend  but  th'^  ! 
other  day — on  the  mountain  there,  when  I  retired  with  the 

personage  who  passes  under  the  name  of  Powell,  but  who  is  \ 

no  other  than  the  Sir  William  Pov^ys,  of  whom  I  am  speaking.  ' 

Yon  start,  but  do  not  interrupt  me.   To  continue:   Left  alone  | 

almof:;^,  at  his  old  country  house,  the  baronet  became  silent  ^ 

and  gloomy.    His  daughter  had  been  more  to  him  than  all  ] 

else  in  the  world,  and  by  removing  her  from  his  side,  I  had  j 

added  another  to  the  long  list  of  wrongs  which  he  had  | 

scored  uj)  in  his  brooding  memory  *i^ainst  the  name  of  ; 

Fairfax.    Arthur  was  go<:Ki  company,  and  had  been  the  \ 

pride  of  his  father;  bat  t'te  young  man's  espousal  of  his  | 

sister's  cause,  had  created  &  <50olness  toward  him  on  the  part  | 

of  the  baronet;  and  the  old  famihar  relations  between  them  j 
were  thus  interrupted.    Another  cause  of  complaint  against 

the  young  man  was  the  frequency  of  his  visits  to  Denton,  i 

whither  the  baronet  himself  very  seldom  went;  and  thus  j 

the  days  of  the  master  of  Powys  Court  were  lonely  and  un-  j 
happy.    Upon  my  head,  as  I  now  know,  all  the  pent  up 

etorm  was  secretly  discharged.    He  had  been  forced  by  cir-  l 

tjumstances  to  sanction  my  union  with  Edith,  but  his  j 

repugnance  to  myself  remained  undiminished;  and  this  feel-  j 

ing  ripened  rapidly  into  a  sentiment  of  actual  hatred —  j 

smouldering  silently,  and  only  awaiting  an  ^ppo^'tunity  of  J 

striking  its   object.    This  opportunity  soon  came.    The  ' 

Countess  of  Fairfax  returned,  after  the  English  custom,  to  j 

Q  e  mansion  of  her  parents,  to  pass  through  that  ordeal  of  i 

B  ifTering,  which  Grod  has  imposed  upon  women  as  the  pen-  | 

alty  of  their  entrance  into  the  sacred  world  of  maternity.  | 

True,  Edith's  mother  was  not  iiying,  but  at  Powys  Oouit,  j 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GEEENWAT  OOUBX 


Bhe  might  fancy  the  presence  of  the  dear  form  at  her  bed- 
side; and  to  Powys  Court  she  accordingly  went. 

**  A  month  afterward,  an  heir  of  my  name  was  bom,  but 
died  in  twelva  hours.  My  wife  was  akeady  dead — she 
had  surrendered  her  existence  in  giving  life  to  another 
human  being.  She  died  with  her  hand  in  my  own,  smiling 
sweetly  as  she  always  smiled  when  she  looked  at  me;  as 
she  will  smile,  I  trust,  when  we  are  reunited  in  heaven, 
where  sorrow  and  tears  come  no  more." 

The  Earl  pressed  his  hand  lo  his  forehead,  and  his  weary 
eyes  moistened  as  he  thus  recalled  the  scenes  of  the  past, 
His  brows  contracted  with  a  weary  shadow,  and  a  groan 
which  issued  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  revealed  the  extent 
of  his  suffering.  He  remained  thus  silent,  and  overcome  by 
emotion  for  some  moments,  then  his  eyes  suddenly  became 
dry  again,  and  a  flash  darted  from  them.  A  cold  and  men- 
acing expression  came  to  the  quivering  Hp,  and  he  con- 
tinued : 

"I  said  that  my  son  died  twelve  hours  after  his  birth. 
In  so  declaring,  I  gave  the  statement  of  his  nurse  and  Sir 
William  Powys — a  falsehood  Yes,  a  horrible,  base  false- 
hood, unworthy  of  a  menial,  much  more  of  a  gentleman! 
The  truth  will  serve  to  display  the  awful  depths  of  depravity, 
to  which  a  nian  who  profoundly  hates  anc  hher  will  descend, 
under  the  influence  of  a  thirst  for  venge:ince.  It  was  not 
my  son  who  died;  it  was  the  child  of  one  of  the  maids, 
bom  almost  at  the  same  moment,  and  substituted,  in  ite 
death-throes,  in  place  of  my  own.  The  unhappy  man  con- 
fessed all  to  me  on  the  Fort  Mountain  in  our  interview — 
confessed  with  shame  and  repentance,  and  shuddering 
humiliation,  the  means  which  he  had  made  use  of  to  rob 
me  of  this  solace  of  my  widowed  heart.  By  a  large  bribe  he 
induced  a  woman  of  the  household  to  make  the  change;  the 
ehild  of  the  servant  thus  died  in  the  chamber  where  mj 
dead  wife  was  lying;  nxiae  was  placed  in  the  arms  of  tha 
iervant  as  her  own. 


"Thns,  under  tlie  stimulus  of  h  nurribie  i^entimeiit  ol 
hatred,  and  thirst  for  vengeance,  did  Sir  William  Powyi 
commit  an  action  which  has  made  him,  he  declares,  supremely 
miserable  for  more  than  a  score  of  years.  Bjs  object  was  a 
double  one.  He  aimed  at  depriving  me  of  an  inexpressible 
consolation,  and  at  securing  to  himself  the  child  of  hia 
daughter.  It  was  almost  with  burning  jealousy,  he  declares, 
that  he  thought  of  me,  in  possession  of  this  memorial  of  hia 
child,  whom  he  loved  so  tenderly,  and  relinquished  to  me 
only  to  make  her  happy.  His  scheme,  he  dedlares,  was  tc 
rear  the  boy  carefully,  to  make  him  heir  to  his  entire  pos- 
sessions; and  before  I  died  to  reveal  the  whole  matter,  and 
further  secure  for  him  the  earldom  and  wealth  of  the  house 
of  Fairfax.  Such  was  his  design — a  portion  of  it  woefully 
Bucceeded.    But  to  return. 

"  I  followed  the  dead  bodies  of  my  wife,  and  my  supposed 
child,  to  the  Denton  churchyard,  and  saw  them  placed  in 
the  earth.  Then  I  mounted  my  horse  and  returned  to  my 
desolate  home,  broken-hearted  and  longing  for  death  to  put 
an  end  to  my  misery.  I  was  destined  to  be  struck  again 
heavily.  A  servant  handed  me  a  package  as  I  dismounted; 
I  opened  and  read  it  with  a  quivering  lip;  then  I  fell  into 
a  seat,  almost  prostrated.  My  guardians  had  cut  off  the 
entail  of  Denton,  in  order  to  preserve  the  great  Leeds  Cas- 
tle Manor,  derived  from  my  mother,  the  daughter,  as  I  have 
Baid,  of  Lord  Culpeper:  the  house  of  my  forefathers  was  no 
longer  my  own;  I  was  tenant  at  Denton  by  sufferance.  I 
despair  of  conveying  to  you  any  adequate  idea  of  the  weight 
of  the  blow  which  thus  struck  me.  It  is  true  the  project 
had  long  been  under  consideration,  in  spite  of  my  remon-- 
Btrances  and  protests;  but 'I  was  now  so  near  my  legal  ma- 
jority, that  I  had  abandoned  all  fears  upon  the  subject.  I 
was  tottering  when  the  stroke  came;  it  almost  prostrated 
me.  Denton  was  lost  to  me  I  It  was  no  longer  my  own  I 
The  house  which  I  was  born  in,  which  recalled  to  me  every 
happy  moment  of  my  youth,  which  my  wife  had  lived 


TSE  UASFTEBL  Of  OEEXKWAT  OO0BT*  Wl 

And  made  sacred  in  my  eyes — ^Denton  was  tlie  property 
strangers.  To  my  overpowering  pain,  succeeded  a  mad, 
speechless  rage;  and  I  stormed  like  a  child  at  the  men  who 
had  done  this.  I  went  to  them  and  told  them  I  would 
never  forgive  them;  but  it  was  a  pitiful  conclusion  after  alL 
I  was  powerless- ^finally  I  yielded,  and  grew  calm.  I  sur- 
rendered the  house  and  went  to  London.  I  lay  there  for 
months  tossing  with  fever — then  I  rose,  an  old  man  a4 
fcwenty-one. 

^  Such  were  the  events  of  my  early  years  in  EngkadL** 


LYL 

OONOLUSION  OF  THE  EAXL'b  STABBATITl. 

HE  rest  of  my  narrative,"  continued  the  Eail, 
"may  be  related  briefly.    But,  first  I  shall  tell 
you  what  you  have  no  claubt  understood  ere  this, 
that  the  young  man  w^o  passes  here  under  the 
name  of  Falconbridge  m  my  son.    net  me  go  on. 

"After  his  terrible,  and  successful  plot,  Sir  William 
Powys  proceeded  quietly  to  adopt  and  rear  the  child,  of 
whom  he  had  deprived  me.  But  events  soon  occurred 
■which  overthrew  all  his  calculations.  A  creditor  who  had  a 
claim  upon  every  foot  of  land  which  the  baronet  possessed, 
forced  the  payment  of  the  debt,  and  thus  Powys  Court 
passed  from  its  owner's  hands,  as  Denton  had  escaped  from 
mine.  The  bajronit  was  thrown  upon  the  world,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  his  f  on,  Arthur,  would  have  had  nowhere  to 
lay  his  head.  The  young  man  had  married  some  time 
before,  and  now  received  his  father  and  the  child  under  his 
root 

"But  Sii*  William  was  haunted  eternally  by  a  single 
thought.  He  dreaded  the  discovery  by  himself  of  the 
infant's  identity,  and  the  thought  of  being  compelled  by  law 
to  part  with  him,  aroused  all  the  old  hatred  and  jealousy  in 
his  heart.  The  boy  already  began  to  display  unmistakable 
indications'of  his  origin.  He  was  the  image  of  hiw  mothor> 
and  no  one  who  had  ever  seen  Edith  failed  to  note,  a.^d 
refer  to  this  resemblance.  Peoi^le  began  to  inquire  why  the 
haughty  and  aristocratic  Sir  William  Powys  had  adopted  aud 
xeoeiyed  as  his  own  child^  the  son  of  a  siervant  in  his  hoiM- 


THE  MASTER  OP  GREKNWAY  OOUBTL  29* 


hold.  The  gossips  of  tlie  neighborhood  duly  seLzoJ  upon 
the  matter,  and  began  to  shake  their  heads,  and  ask  if  that 
poor  young  Lord  Fairfax  had  really  lost  his  child.  It  was  a 
vague  and  undefined  idea  in  all  minds ;  but  the  question 
was  not  permitted  to  r3si 

''This  state  of  things  became  at  last  so  troublesome,  that 
Bir  William  ca.st  about  him  for  some  means  of  quieting  tJia 
gossips,  and  at  the  same  time  securing  the  infant  from  ev©f 
falling  into  my  hands.  The  means  all  at  once  presented 
themselves.  A  Mr.  Falconbridge  of  the  region  was  about 
emigrating  to  the  Virginia  Colony — and  his  wife,  who  was 
childless,  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  the  boy.  Sir  William 
was  not  long  in  making  up  his  mind.  He  sounded  the 
parties,  and  discovered  that  they  would  willingly  adopt  the 
child  as  their  ovm,  and  take  charge  of  his  future.  The  bar- 
gain was  soon  agreed  upon,  and  when  Mr.  Falconbridge 
mailed  for  Virginia,  he  took  my  son  with  him,  as  his  own 
child,  and  bearing  his  name. 

"Thus  had  crime  reached  its  punishment.  This  man 
who  had  inflicted  upon  me  such  a  cruel  vengeance,  was  as 
cruelly  wounded  himseK.  He  loved  the  boy  dearly,  and 
was  compelled  to  part  with  him.  He  continued  in  England, 
dependent  upon  the  bounty  of  his  son — but  after  some 
years  even  this  was  denied  him.  Arthur  died,  and  his  wife 
followed  him.  The  family  had  subsisted  upon  the  salary 
of  a  county  office  which  the  young  man  held  :  and  thus  Sir 
William  found  himself  without  means  of  support,  with  a 
further  cause  of  disquiet  and  apprehension.  Arthur  had 
left  a  little  daughter.  You  know  her,  under  the  name  of 
Cannie  Powell.  This  daughter  the  poor  man  came  to  love 
with  a  doting  affection  ;  and  to  reai  her  in  a  manner 
suitable  to  her  origin  and  rank  now  became  the  most  cher- 
ished desire  of  her  grandfather.  Without  means  of  doing 
80  in  the  Old  World,  Sh-  WiUiam  came  to  the  New.  He 
crossed  the  ocean,  and  settled  upon  a  small  tract  of  land  on 
lilt  shores  of  the  Chesapeake  ;  and  thence  came  here  to  th% 


800 


FAIRFAX;  PR, 


mountains,  for  the  health  of  his  granddaughter.  Soon  sdiet 
his  arriyal,  he  discovered  a  mine  of  silver  and  g  )ld,  and  in 
working  this  mine,  impelled  by  the  desire  of  amassing 
money  for  his  child,  he  secured  that  reputation  for  witch- 
craft, which  ended  in  his  arrest  and  trial.  He  had  frequent 
ly  seen  his  grandson,  young  Falconbridge,  in  the  Lowland, 
but  shame  had  prevented  him  fi^om  revealing  their  connec- 
tion, and  even  from  making  his  acquaintance,  as  a  stranger. 
Assured  of  the  fact  that  the  elder  Falconbridge  loved  the 
young  man,  and  regarded  him  as  his  son,  he  yielded  to  the 
bard  fate  which  kept  them  asunder,  and  dedicated  his  life 
to  httle  Cannie.  When  I  came  to  Green  way,  a  year  or  two 
since.  Sir  William  was  residing  in  the  mountain.  Why  I 
emigrated  to  America,  you  doubtless  know.  Stripped  of 
Denton,  and  longing  for  new  scenes,  I  came  hither,  and 
fcook  possession  of  my  projjerty,  like  Leeds  Castle,  derived 
from  Lord  Culpeper  through  my  mother.  I  never  met  Sir 
William,  though  I  often  hunted  in  the  Fort  Mountain — and 
a  strange  Providence  threw  us,  for  the  first  time,  face  to 
face,  in  the  attitude  of  criminal  and  judge.  By  the  side  of 
the  old  man  I  saw  my  son,  and  my  son's  cousin ;  his  grand- 
children, both  ;  and  all  strikingly  alike.  The  strange 
resemblance  which  Falconbridge,  as  I  shall  call  him  stUl, 
bore  to  Ai'thur  and  Edith,  impressed  me  powerfully  on  our 
first  meeting,  and  one  night,  when  he  slept  here,  I  stole  at 
midnight  to  his  chamber,  led  thither  by  an  impulse  which  I 
could  not  resist. 

"You  know  all,  now,  Captain  Wagner.  I  have  related  my 
whole  life.  You  are  acquainted  with  the  events  which  have 
occurred  since  the  young  man's  visit  fo  this  region  ;  I 
scarce  dare  to  refer  to  them.  An  inscrutable  Providence 
decreed  that  father  and  son  should  be  rivals,  in  a  mad  infat- 
uation for  a  woman  ;  that  they  should  oppose  each  other 
Bword  in  hand  ;  that  they  should  shed  each  other's  bloody 
though  God  be  thanked,  not  to  the  death  I  The  man  whosi 
ftct  placed  us  in  thi£  imiaturAl  aititudei  revealed  all  beloz^ 


THE  MASTER  OF  Ct^tEENWAf  OOUBT. 


801 


it  was  t*^o  late.  In  our  interriew  on  the  mountain,  he  con- 
fessed his  crime,  and  prayed  me  in  a  trembling  voice  to 
forgive  him.  He  had  delivered,  some  tin  d  before,  a  package 
to  the  youth  for  me,  containing  the  whole  explanation,  which 
was  strangely  lost.  But  at  least  it  came  in  time.  No 
power  can  now  arm  us  again,  I  shall  never  look  more  upon 
the  woman  whom  my  boy  loves  ;  I  will  warn  him  against 
her,  for  I  feel  thai  she  is  false  and  dangerous. 

"  That  is  all.  Captain,"  said  the  Earl,  raising  his  head,  and 
sighing  deeply,  but  no  longer  with  the  old  painful  expression. 
"I  have  related  a  strange  history — 'tis  such,  is  it  not? — and 
you  have  listened  as  friend  listens  to  friend.  The  narrative 
has  been  a  singular  relief  to  me  ;  I  feel  light-hearted 
almost.  I  end  by  a  serious  and  earnest  petiiioii.  I  impo&^ 
upon  you  a  duty  which  I  know  you  will  gladly  perform. 
In  the  scenes  of  danger  which  my  boy  is  about  to  enter, 
watch  over  his  life,  and  bring  him  back  safe  to  me.  On  the 
day  of  his  return  I  will  tell  him  that  his  name  is  not  Falcon- 
bridge  ;  that  his  blood  is  my  blood ;  that  I  thank  the 
Supreme  Lord  of  this  world,  and  all  worlds,  that  Edmund 
Lord  Fairfax,  tie  seventh  of  the  name,  and  Baron  of  Cam- 
eron in  the  kingdom  of  Scotland,  for  such  will  be  my  boy, — 
is  better  than  a  mere  noble,  better  than  the  greatest  lord — 
a  noble  and  true  hearted  gentleman  1" 

The  face  of  the  glad  father  glowed  as  he  spoke,  and  hia 
form  rose  erect,  with  a  pride  and  happiness  which  is  inde- 
scribable. 

"Yes,  Captain!"  said  the  Earl,  with  flushed  cheeks,  and 
briUiant  eyes,  "  yes,  Falconbridge  is  a  gentleman  every  inch 
of  him  1  a  nobleman  by  God's  patent,  as  by  the  king's  1  In 
his  presence,  as  I  gazed  at  him,  and  Ustened  to  his  voice,  I 
have  said,  "  This  is  a  chevaHer  of  old  days  i*'  In  his  per- 
suasive tones,  in  his  clear,  ttank  eyes,  in  his  Hps,  in  hi* 
whole  bearing,  in  his  rage,  as  wJien  he  smiled,  I  have  seen 
the  great  soul  of  the  boy,  the  pure  gold  of  his  nature  I  1 
bftTt  thrilled  with  a  nameless  delight^  when  he  spoke  ;  I 


802 


AIBFAX  ;  O&y 


have  gazed  with  Tionging  into  his  deep,  tme  eyes  .  bsTi 
said,  *  What  pride  must  this  youth's  father  feel  !*  and  yon 
may  understand  now  the  emotion  which  I  experience  when 
I  can  add,  *  This  is  my  son/ 

The  Earl  was  silent,  and  Captain  Wagner  did  not  imme- 
diately reply.  Leaning  his  head  upon  his  huge  hand,  he 
reflected  with  absorbing  interest  upon  the  remarkable 
history  which  he  had  just  heard.  He  remained  thus  absent 
and  buried  in  thought,  for  a  long  time  after  the  Earl 
ceased  speaking.  Then  he  raised  his  head,  and  uttered  the 
characteristic  words  : 

"  Tes,  a  trump,  or  the  devil  take  it  1'* 

The  Earl  smiled  at  the  sonorous  voice  of  the  worthy 
soldier,  and  said  : 

"You  mean  my  son?" 

"  Tes,  my  lord.  And  I  beg  you  to  observe  one  fact — 
that  when  I  say  a  man's  a  trump,  I  mean  the  trump  of 
hearts,  that  being  the  finest  card,  to  my  thinking,  in  the  pack. 
I  have  always  regarded  your  lordship  as  a  man  of  discrim- 
ination ;  I  think  so  now  more  than  ever,  or  I'm  a  dandy 
Yes,  this  Falconbridge  is  truly  a  gentleman,  and  that's 
better,  as  you  say,  than  being  a  nobleman.  I  am  not 
myse¥  a  gentleman — don't  be  waving  your  hand,  my  dear 
friend — I  would  have  been,  with  training,  if  that  satisfies  you. 
I  think  in  fact  that  a  real  marquis  was  spoiled  when  Cap- 
tain Julius  Wagner  took  to  the  border.  Nevertheless,  in 
spite  of  this  unfortunate  state  of  things,  I  am  acquainted 
with  the  article,  and  recognize  it.  I  say  Ealoonbridge  is 
made  of  real  gold !  Let  me  hear  anybody  deny  it  I  111 
shce  'eml  Zounds  I  my  lord!  I  loved  him  at  first  sight  I 
I  couldn't  keep  my  eyes  off  that  proud-Jooking  face  of  his — 
and  when  he  dangled  after  that  woman,  I  nearly  cried  1 
From  the  first,  this  young  fellow  bossed  Wagner,  or  I'm  a 
dandy  1  I  am  fond  of  your  lordship,  but  I  honestly  declare 
^hat  yonder  on  the  Fort  Mountain,  I  hoped  he'd  make  a 
liole  in  your  ooat — that  is  to  say — Hum  I  rather  than  be 


THB  ULASTfiE  OF  GBEEKWAT  COtJBT. 


801 


drilled  himself  1  Friendly,  that,  eh,  my  lord?  Bnt  it's 
Inie.  It  will  show  you  how  that  boy  has  wrapped  himself 
around  my  old  heart  :  I  growl  Hke  a  miserable  ^Id  bear^ 
when  he  groans — he's  as  much  my  son  as  your  lordship's  I'^ 

The  Captain  accompanied  the  words  by  a  blow  upon  the 
table  with  his  fist. 

"  There,  there,"  he  said  more  calmly,  "  Fve  made  a  fool  of 
myself — if  I  haven't  done  a  disgraceful  piece  of  courting, 
The  fact  is,  my  lord,  I  wan't  a  manor  on  the  Opequon,  and 
it  occurred  to  me  that  this  was  the  way  to  get  around  you, 
I  have  no  sort  of  liking  for  this  lofty  headed  youngster,  but 
I  praise  him,  you  see,  to  arrive  at  my  own  ends.  Is  the 
Eedbud  Manor'  stiU  unoccupied,  my  lord?" 

And  the  Captain  gazed  with  a  look  of  earnest  inquiry  into 
the  countenance  of  Lord  Fairfax. 

The  Earl  smiled.  It  was  a  happy  smile — no  longer  grim 
and  melancholy,  as  on  former  occasions. 

"  You  are  a  bungling  courtier,  Captain  Wagner,"  he  said, 

and  I  predict  will  never  become  a  very  distinguished  di- 
plomatist. But  I'll  make  a  contract  with  you.  Bring  my 
boy  back  safely,  and  I'll  make  you  a  deed  to  twice  as  many 
acres  as  the  '  Eedbud '  tract.    Is  it  a  bargain  ?" 

"  No,  my  lord,"  returned  the  Captain,  "  it  is  nothing  ol 
the  sort.  Th  6  fact  is,  the  *  Eedbud '  land  is  miserably  bar- 
ren— not  half  equal  to  my  wife's  property  which  joins  it 
No,  your  lordship,  and  at  present  Captain  Wagner  is  talking 
seriously — ^by  the  book — I'll  receive  no  pay,  for  looking  after 
the  youngster,  any  more  than  I  would  for  guarding  Julius, 
Lord  Wagner,  the  second  of  the  name  and  Baron  of  Win- 
chester in  the  Kingdom  of  Yirginia !  I'll  be  by  him,  and 
keep  the  balls  off  him — ^if  I  don't  I'm  a  dandy !  And  so 
that's  all.  Let  me  now  go  and  carry  out  my  other  promise 
. — that  of  bringing  Lord  Fairfax,  the  younger,  to  Green  way. 
The  sun  is  getting  low,  and  it  is  time  to  be  on  the  road. 
Tonr  lordship  wishes  him  to  come  sleep  here  ?" 

"Tes^  Oa{)tam.   You  will  pardon  the  weakness  of  a  fatlioi 


804 


FAIRrAX;  OB, 


whose  son  is  going  on  a  perilous  expeditioti  to-morm^  1 
would  see  him  once  more." 

"  Eight,  right !  I've  had  boys  itiyself ,  and  I  know  whak 
that  means ;  you  want  to  have  the  youngster  here  dose  to 
you." 

The  Earl  smiled  and  inclined. 

"  It  is  one  of  my  chief  happinesses  in  this  lonely  region  to 
have  by  my  side  a  friend  like  yourself,  Captain,  who  under- 
stands me.    Go  then — 'tis  another  obligation  stilL" 

"  Stop  that  talking,  my  lord.  JuHus  Wagner's  a  good 
fellow,  but  no  such  great  things  after  aU.  I'll  go  bring 
him — whether  he  wants  to  come  ot  not — or  I'm  a  dandy  I" 

With  which  words,  the  Borderer  issued  forth,  and  moutii- 
ing  Injunhater,  hastened  to  the  Ordinary.    Two  hoilrs  af- 
terwards, Falconbridge,  as  we  shall  continue  to  call  him, 
was  seated  in  the  great,  apartment  at  Greenway,  conversing 
with  George,  the  Earl  and  the  Captain. 


TUB  MiSTSB  Of  OIBI^^AI  OOVm 


80H 


Lm 

THE  001!rEi:iAGRA.TI0K. 

E  miglit  pause  here  to  note  the  strange  and  mc  r 
ing  attitudes  which  some  of  the  personages  ol 
our  narrative  sustained  toward  each  other.  We 
might  exhibit  the  good  Earl  in  the  presence  oi 
his  son,  listening  with  smiles  as  the  young  man  talks: — or 
returning  to  the  day  when  Falconbridge  visited  the  Fort 
Mountain,  we  might  dwell  on  the  secret  attraction  which  he 
felt  to  ward  his  Httle  cousin,  and  the  sympathetic  affection  of 
child  in  return. 

"We  might  dedicate  some  pages  to  this  series  of  reflections, 
but  it  is  not  necessary.  It  is  well  that  such  is  the  fact. 
Our  narrative  is  not  ended.  It  must  depict  more  than  one 
additional  scene  of  passion  before  it  concludes.  The  hours 
are  even  now  descending  upon  the  actors  in  the  valley  and 
the  mountain,  at  the  Ordinary,  and  Greenway. 

For  a  long  time  the  occupants  of  the  old  border  mansion 
continued  to  converse  upon  a  variety  of  topics.  Falcon- 
bridge  was  gloomy  and  the  victim  evidently  of  an  incurable 
W.dness — ^but  he  no  longer  cherished  any  ill-will  toward  the 
EarL  It  is  true,  he  stiU  wondered  at  the  scene  in  the  Fort, 
and  vainly  racked  his  brain  to  account  for  the  action  of 
Lord  Fairfax:  but  a  more  absorbing  thought  filled  his  agi- 
tated mind;  the  terrible  secret  which  had  been  revealed  to 
him  by  Mr.  ArgaL 

He  looked  older.  His  countenance,  which  before  had 
been  the  model  of  youthful  beauty,  began  to  shrink  away,  and 
present  the  traits  of  age.  His  cheeks  were  hollow,  his  eyes 
dim — ^hiB  lips  were  filled  with  inexpressib'e  sorrow ;  or  wort 


6oe 


rAlEFAX;  OB, 


a  smile  of  such  madness  that  the  Earl  was  moT6d  almoit  to 

tears  as  he  gazecL 

As  the  hours  drew  on,  however,  something  of  this  gloom 
disappeared.  Captain  Wagner  dn-ected  the  conversation 
tovfard  the  events  of  the  morrow — the  march  on  the  Indiana 
— the  fated  struggle.  Then  Falconbridge  aroused  himself. 
His  eyes  glowed,  his  cheek  flushed — when  the  soldier  drew 
a  picture  of  the  murdered  women  and  children,  the  face  of 
the  young  man  became  menacing  and  dark — ^the  war  fever 
began  to  replace  the  sombre  brooding. 

G3orge  never  moved  his  eyes  for  a  moment  from  Falcon* 
bridge.  The  youth  seemed  to  be  drawn  to  him  by  an  irresist- 
<.ble  attraction.  The  manly  eyes  of  the  boy  uttered  plainly 
the  emotions  of  his  heart — the  deep  affection  which  he  felt 
toward  the  other.  Indeed,  this  feeling  amounted  to  a  pas- 
sion almost;  and  if,  amid  the  advanciug  scenes  of  our  narra- 
tive, we  have  not  paused  to  dwell  upon  this  beautiful  friend- 
diip,  it  was  not  because  it  did  not  possess  aU  the  elements 
Df  an  exquisite  picture.  From  the  first  day  of  their  meeting, 
ihese  two  natm^es  had  embraced  each  other.  Heart  spokft 
io  heart,  with  the  frankness  and  sincerity  which  spring  from 
Qobihty  of  soul.  With  the  elder  it  was  a  sentiment  of  affec- 
tion, almost  tenderness — with  George  not  only  that:  ho 
looked  up  to  his  friend  as  to  one  who  should  be  taken  as  a 
model — as  to  his  superior,  and  bright  exemplar  in  all 
hhings. 

Long  afterwards,  when  a  new  world  had  risen  from  the 
ruins  of  the  old — when  a  long  stormy  life  had  thrown  the 
youth  into  contact  with  aU  varieties  of  excellence  and  no- 
bility and  moral  grandeur — ^when,  a  gray-haired  man,  George 
retui*nod  to  this  region — he  gazed  on  the  scenes  amid  which 
his  friend  had  once  moved  ;  and  said  with  a  sigh,  which 
sounded  strangely  fi-om  him,  "  There  never  was  another  hu- 
man beiug  like  him !" 

So  the  long  hours  fled  away  into  the  lartness  of  the 
past'-and  at  night  the  occupants  at  Greenway  retired*  II 


THE  MAOTEB  OP  OREENWAT  X>TJB11.  Wt 


was  the  last  time  they  ever  met,  all  together  in  the  old  aparV 
ment. 

In  an  hour  they  were  sliimberirg  fuietly — ^but  they  were 
destined  to  be  awakened. 

Palconbridge  was  sleeping  as  tranquilly  as  an  infant,  when 
suddenly  he  felt  a  violent  grasp  on  his  arm,  and  the  voice  of 
Ciiptain Wagner  thundered: 

"  Wake,  comrade  1    They're  on  us  at  last  1" 

The  young  man  sprang  from  his  couch  and  rapidly 
dressed  himself  without  speaking.  George,  who  slept  in 
the  same  room,  did  the  same. 

"  They're  on  us,  or  the  devil  fly  away  with  it  !'*  cried  th« 
Captain  ;  "  come,  hurry !  His  lordship's  waiting  by  this 
time.    I  sent  the  messenger  to  his  room!" 

"  The  messenger  ?"  asked  Falconbridge,  coolly. 

"Yesl  Just  look  out  and  you'll  see  what  news  he 
brought  r 

As  he  spoke,  the  Captain  raised  the  curtain  of  the  window 
and  pointed  to  the  west.  Above  the  belt  of  forest  soared  a 
tongue  of  Jame,  and  the  country  was  illuminated  for  milea 
by  a  great  conflagration. 

"The  Oidinary!"  said  George. 

"Yes,  the  Ordinary!  By  the  horns  of  the  devil!  Ton 
are  right  I    Come,  friends !   There's  not  a  moment  to  lose  1" 

And  the  Captain  huiried  down  to  the  large  apartment 
where,  while  sleeping  as  his  wont  was  on  one  of  the  couches, 
the  messenger  from  the  tavern  had  aroused  him. 

Lord  Fairfax  was  already  dressed,  and  speaking  rapidly 
eo  the  man  who  had  brought  the  intelUgence.  George  and 
Falconbridge  entered,  as  he  was  doing  so. 

The  news  was  quickly  communicated  to  all.  The  band  of 
Indians  who  had  made  a  feint  of  directing  their  march  to- 
ward the  Potomac,  did  sc  only  to  mask  their  real  plan. 
They  had  turned  back  suddenly  and  descended  upon  Wm- 
cheater,  and  the  Greenway  Court  manor,  burning  and  mur- 
dering as  they  went   They  ha>d  come  thnv,  dnly  to  the 


iBi  filBVAZ;  0B, 

aeighborlioocl  of  the  Ordinary,  and  at  onc«  froaeeded  Id 
attack  tliat  mansion.  Tiie  occupants  could  make  little  or  no 
resistance — the  savages  had  taken  the  place  and  set  it  on 
fire  an  hour  before.  The  fat  landlord,  Van  Doring,  had 
been  kiiled  on  his  threshold — every  servant  but  the  one  who 
related  these  events  had  fallen  victims  to  the  assailant«| 
and  the  savages  had  finally  hastened  away,  in  a  southern 
direction,  carrying  with  them  as  prisoners,  Mrs.  Butterton, 
Monsieur  Jambot  and  Major  Hasty  luck,  who  had  slept  at 
the  tavern — as  beasts  of  biu'den  to  bear  the  plunder  on 
their  shoulders. 

The  Captain  bounded  again  as  he  heard  this,  and  growled 
rather  than  said: 

"  To  horse  1" 

With  which  words  he  rushed  from  the  apartment  In  ten 
miniites  every  one  was  mounted,  and  a  hurried  consultation 
was  held  as  to  the  propriety  of  leaving  Green  way  undefend- 
ed. 

"They're  gone  southwest  !  I  know  *em,"  growled  Cap- 
tain Wagner  ; "  the  attack  on  us  here  would  have  been  made 
before  this  if  they  had  not  been  afraid  that  the  house  was 
regularly  garrisoned  I" 

The  servp^nt  who  had  brought  the  intelligence  corrobo- 
rated this  view,  and  stated  that  he  had  heard  the  Indians  dis- 
cuss, in  broken  English,  the  question  of  attacking  Green- 
way.  They  had  given  up  the  idea,  upon  the  identical 
grounds  mentioned  by  the  Captain — and  had  hastened  tow- 
ard the  south,  leaving  him  tied  in  the  burning  house,  froia 
which  he  had  managed,  however,  to  escape. 

This  settled  all  doubt:  and  in  a  moment  the  four  mra 
were  spuriing  rapidly  to  the  scene  of  the  catastrophe. 

A  horrible  spectacle  awaited  them.  The  mansion  wa« 
wrapt  in  flames,  and  in  front  were  lying  no  less  than  mx 
dead  bodies,  among  whom  was  seen  the  portly  form  of 
Mynheer  Van  Doring,  scalped  and  bleeding  from  man; 
Mortal   oonda   A  sight  if  anything  more  terrible  wai  pre- 


TRB  MASTEB  07  GKEENWAY  OOUBT.  80t 


iented  a  few  paces  off.  Several  infant  children,  belonging 
to  the  dead  servants  of  the  establishment,  were  hanging  in 
trees,  transfixed  with  arrows.  The  Indians  had  evidently 
perpetrated  this  shocking  tragedy  in  sport;  and  while  the 
Earl  and  his  companions  were  gazing  at  the  contorted 
forms,  another  barbarity  still  was  revealed.  The  stable  of 
the  Ordinary  was  burning  like  the  mansion,  and  the  cries  of 
acme  cattle  and  sheep  which  were  shut  in,  made  the  night 
hideous  to  the  listeners.* 

The  first  act  of  the  party  was  to  drag  the  dead  bodies 
out  of  the  flames,  and  liberate  the  cattle  which  went  bellow- 
ing with  terror  into  the  forest.  Then  the  Captain  leaped 
into  the  saddle  and  cast  a  rapid  glance  around  him.  A 
number  of  settlers,  for  the  most  part  hunters,  had  assem- 
bled, attracted  from  their  homes  by  the  flames  of  the  bum- 
ing  mansion.  To  these  the  Borderer,  who  seemed  on  fire 
with  rage,  addressed  himself  in  quick,  brief  words.  His 
directions  were  succinct  and  simple.  They  were  to  disperse 
in  all  quarters  and  arouse  the  inhabitants — the  men  would 
meet  at  the  "  Three  Oaks,"  near  the  house  of  Sir.  Aaigal — 
a  point  in  the  prairie  which  every  settler  was  acquainted 
with.  He  himself  would  spend  the  night  in  scouring  the 
country.  The  various  parties  would  assemble  at  daybreak, 
or  sunrise  at  the  latest. 

These  directions  were  rapidly  obeyed.  The  hunters  dis- 
persed and  hurried  away,  disappearing  with  long  strides  in 
the  gathering  darkness. 

♦  *•  The  Indians  dragged  the  dead  body  back  to  the  house,  threw  it  in,  phmdered 
the  honse  of  what  they  chose,  and  then  set  fire  to  it  While  the  house  was  in  flames 
OOBBuming  the  body  of  Mr.  Painter,  they  forced  from  the  arms  of  their  mothers,  four  in- 
fant  children,  hung  them  up  in  trees,  shot  thejn  in  savage  sport,  and  left  them  hanging. 
They  then  set  fire  to  a  stable  in  which  were  inclosed  a  parcel  of  sheep  and  calves,  thus 
orrelly  and  wantonly  torturing  to  death  the  dumb  animals.  After  these  atrocities, 
Ihey  moved  off  with  forty-eight  prisoners,  among  whom  were  Mrs.  Painter,  five  oi 
her  daughters  and  oi?e  of  her  sons:  a  Mrs.  Smith  and  several  of  her  children,  among 
them  a  lad  of  twelve  or  thii-teen  years  old,  a  ^e,  weJl  grown  boy,  and  roniarkabiy 
fleshy.  This  Uttle  fellow,  it  will  presertly  ne  seen,  was  destined  to  be  the  victim  U 
mrsLge  cruelty  One  of  the   Painters,  "yith  Myer,  r&a.  over  that  nig^*"  I0 


CIO 


VAIBFAX;  0B| 


"  Now  friends !"  said  Captain  Wagner  to  tlie  Earl  and  hii 

companions,  "  let  every  man  imitate  me.  There's  no  time 
for  ceremony  I  I  could  bite  off  my  head  for  this  hoggish 
stupidity  of  mine  I  I  trusted  that  fellow  who  brought  me 
the  news  that  the  band  had  gone  back,  and  would  slay  him 
where  he  stood  if  he  were  here  1  To  work !  I  will  go  and 
bring  the  boys  from  Winchester,  where  they  were  to  assem- 
ble to-day — for  days  coming.  Go  arm,  gentlemen  I  arm; 
this  is  only  the  beginning  of  the  sight  you're  going  to  see  I" 

And  saluting,  the  Borderer  put  spur  to  his  huge  animal, 
and  took  the  road  to  Winchester  at  a  thundering  gallop. 

"  I  will  return  to  Greenway  Court,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
Earl,  with  his  old  grim  expression,  "  I  will  send  all  my  ser- 
vants in  every  direction — and  then  join  you  at  the  *  Three 
Oaks '  at  daybreak." 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room  and  soon  disappeared 
like  the  Captain,  at  a  rapid  gallop. 

George  and  Palconbridge  looked  at  each  other.  The 
same  thought  had  occurred  to  them  at  the  same  instant. 
The  Indians  had  gone  southward — ^in  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Argal's — in  the  direction  of  the  Port  Mountain  1 

No  word  was  uttered:  a  simultaneous  movement  of  the 
head— the  spur  in  the  sides  of  the  horses — and  they  separ 
ftted  and  were  lost  in  the  darkness. 


THX  MABTEB  OF  aBSfilTWAT  OOOM.  Sll 


L7IIL 

THB  SEABOH. 

ALCONBEIDGE  j)ushed  bis  si)iiited  animal  imtij 
the  courser  rather  bounded  than  ran. 

The  great  trees  flitted  by  like  spectres;  thu 
prairie  glimmered,  and  fled  behind  him;  dart- 
ing onward  like  some  phantom  of  the  German  poets,  he  re- 
sembled rather  the  wild  image  of  a  feverish  dream,  than  a 
real  man  of  flesh  and  blood. 

A  terrible  dread  had  seized  upon  him.  The  Indians  liad 
gone  directly  toward  Mr.  Ajcgal's.  She  was  slain  perhaps- 
even  now  she  might  be  weltering  in  her  blood !  That  ten- 
der and  beautiful  face  might  be  gashed  by  the  tomahawk — 
the  scalping-knite  might  have  encircled  the  white  temples, 
— and  the  mass  of  raven  curls  which  he  had  often  twined 
around  his  fingers  might  be  hanging  at  the  belt  of  a  savage  I 
The  thought  maddened  him  almost,  and  he  felt,  with 
something  like  a  dreadful  shadder,  that  he  loved  this  woman 
BtilL 

All  the  nobility  and  pity  of  his  high  nature  was  aroused 
She  had  trifled  with  him  jperhaps — she  had  played  with  his 
deep  love — ^but  after  all,  she  was  a  woman,  a  weak  woman  1 
She  was  even  more  than  that !  She  was  a  poor  feeble  girl, 
smitten  by  the  hand  of  the  Almighty,  and  irresponsible! 
Could  he  think  of  her  lying  in  her  blood  on  the  threshold, 
and  turn  away  coldly  with  the  thought,  "  She  has  deceived 
me — I  care  nothing  ?*' 

No,  that  was  not  possible.  She  was  sacred  to  Lim  stal— 
all  was  ended  between  them.    His  life  was  a  bauble  ;  ol 


no  value ;  he  cared  naught  for  it  ?  he  would  fulfill  thai  \ 
promise  which  he  had  made  to  her  father.    He  would  still 

guard  her  from  harm,  and  if  necessary,  die  for  her.  i 

He  fled  on  more  rapidly.    Sir  John  panted,  and  the  foam  ] 

flew  from  his  jaws.    Then  suddenly  the  house  rose  in  the  j 

darkness.  | 

All  was  silent.  The  young  man  leaped  to  the  ground  and  I 
rushed  in. 

Am  he  entered  he  stumbled  and  almost  fell  over  a  dead  : 

body.    An  awful  shudder  convulsed  him.    He  scarcely  ! 

dared  to  look  down.    Leaning  for  an  instant  against  the  j 

framework  of  the  door,  a  sort  of  mist  passed  before  him,  j 

and  he  shook  from  head  to  foot.    Then  he  summoned  all  1 

his  strength,  and  knelt  down,  passing  his  trembling  hand  | 

over  the  figure.    It  was  a  woman,  but  not  the  form  of  her  ! 

he  sought.  A  deep  breath  filled  the  bosom  of  the  youjag  | 
man  as  he  rose  erect.    Stepping  over  the  corpse  of  the 

servant,  he  hastened  in,  and  going  to  the  fire-place,  struck  a  ' 

light.    The  apartment  was  all  at  once  illuminated.    An  ' 

awful  spectacle  presented  itself.  I 

All  around  lay  the  corpses  of  the  servants  of  the  establish'  ■ 

ment,  in  attitudes  of  indescribable  agony,  as  they  had  died.  ' 

The  room  was  rifled,  the  furniture  broken.    On  more  than  \ 
one  object  was  a  bloody  stain  which  indicated  a  desperate 
struggle.    This,  however,  was  the  least  of  the  spectacle. 
There  was  another  element— an  object,  or  rather  five  objects 

which  sent  the  blood  to  his  breast,  and  made  him  turn  sick  I 
with  horror. 

'lo  tbe  four  corners  of  the  room  were  affixed,  by  knives 

driven  through  them  into  the  wall,  the  quartered  body  of  j 
Mr.  ArgaL    On  the  summit  of  a  stake  which  leaned  against 

the  mantel-piece,  the  bleeding  head  of  the  unhappy  man  ^ 

looked,  with  a  ghastly  grin  upon  the  features,  at  the  in-  , 

truder.*  ' 


^  **  Hie  remaining  two  "  Indiana,  **  reBolved  not  to  giw%  up  their  preff  feoBd  il 
mmrnxf  to  prooMd  more  oMitioualr  ;  and  goiiic  to  tiM  UuMt  AxpoMd  ikii  «f  Ite  hcwM% 


MA8TEB  OF  GBEEKWAY  COUM.  tit 


The  young  man  recoiled  before  the  terrible  sight,  step  by 
itep,  until  he  touched  the  opposite  wall  He  seemed  en- 
deayoring  to  fly  from  the  grinning  mouth,  the  lack-lustr« 
eyes. 

Then  suddenly  he  remembered  the  object  of  his  visit, 
which  had  disappeared  from  his  mind  for  an  instant.  Her 
figure  was  not  among  the  corpses  on  the  floor — was  it  else* 
where  ? 

With  the  flaring  light  raised  above  his  head,  he  ijushed 
through  the  house  from  top  to  bottom — with  clenched  teeth 
— ^breathing  heavily — searching  for  what  he  dared  not  to 
think  of. 

It  was  not  visible.  Then  she  too  had  been  carried  away 
prisoner — every  moment  that  he  tarried^  increased  the  dis- 
tance between  them.  Hurryiag  back  to  the  main  room,  he 
passed  through  it  with  averted  head  and  shuddering  limbs. 
Stepping  over  the  dead  body  of  the  woman  at  the  threshold, 
he  ground  the  light  beneath  his  heel,  and  leaving  the  ac- 
cursed mansion  with  its  horrors  to  darkness  and  silence, 
leaped  into  the  saddle  and  darted  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  "Three  Oaks." 


one  was  raised  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  otlier  to  an  opening  in  the  logs,  some  AJ«- 
to&oe  above  the  level  of  Mr.  Williams,  who  did  not  consequently  observe  the  xnanoeo. 
rre,  from  which  he  fired  and  shot  Mr.  Williams  dead.  The  body  was  Instanti^r  qtutfw 
leied  and  hung  to  the  four  comers  of  the  building,  and  the  head  8tu<*  upon  a  f&oc§ 
•lake  in  front  of  the  door.  This  brave  man  was  the  father  of  th»  vwiO'  '»t4g  Md^ 
«ar«f  ^Ulkma,  the  derk  at  fiardy  Oonnty  OourL"— ExBOBSTax*. 


tl4 


FAIRFAX:  OB. 


AT  THB  HOUSE  IN  THE  MOUITTAXV. 

E0Rc3^E  liad  meanwhile  directed  his  conrsa  as  »• 
pidly  as  Falconbridge  toward  the  Fort  Mountain, 
The  same  terrible  fear  made  his  heart  turn  cold, 
and  his  temples  throb  with  fever.  His  imagina- 
tion also  made  a  picture  for  itself — the  form  of  a  young 
girl  stretched  dead  upon  the  ground,  all  mangled,  and 
bloody  from  the  blows  of  the  savages. 

They  spared  no  age  or  sex — Whence  they  could  not  have 
passed  over  Cannie,  if  they  had  gone,  as  they  probably  had 
done,  to  the  Fort  Mountain.  The  child  whom  he  loved 
more  than  he  loved  his  life,  was  dead — she  would  smile  for 
him  no  more — all  his  future  was  to  be  darkness  and  despair. 

With  a  quivering  lip,  and  eyes  moist  yet  fiery,  George  fled 
across  the  prairie  at  a  desperate  pace,  driving  the  spur,  cru- 
elly, into  the  sides  of  his  animal. 

More  than  once  the  horse  stumbled  and  nearly  feJl  in  the 
taU  grass,  but  a  powerful  lift  of  the  bridle  held  him  up  ; — 
again  he  fled  onward,  like  the  shadow  of  a  darting  bird 
across  the  wide  expanse,  toward  the  river. 

The  stream  waas  reached,  and  soon  crossed.  Into  the 
frowning  gorge,  up  the  winding  ♦•oad,  over  rocks  tmd  fallen 
trees  which  the  animal  cleared  bound  after  bound,  the  boy 
rushed  on. 

His  horse  reaicfi  and  almost  fell  at  the  door  of  the  mouH'- 
tain  dwelling-  -the  ascent  hvxl  been  cruelly  exhausting, 

George  entered.  An  old  servant  was  holding  Mr.  Powdl 
la  luui  arms»  and  staunching  a  deep  wound  in  hii  tempi*. 


THE  MASTER  OF  GBE^NWAY  COUBT. 


815 


The  old  man  was  insensible — the  servant  was  groaning  and 
uttering  exclamations. 

It  was  some  time  before  George  could  extort  anything 
from  the  servant,  who  only  cried,  "  such  a  sountry !  such  a 
country  I  Oh  !  for  England  again  I" 

At  last  ne  was  mastered  by  the  stem  tone  and  resolute 
eommand  in  George's  voice— he  related  what  had  happened. 

An  hour  before,  the  Indians,  in  large  numbers,  had  sur- 
prised the  dwelling,  and  carried  olT  Cannie.  His  master 
had  fought  desperately,  bat  was  soon  overpowered — a  blow 
from  a  tomahawk  had  struck  him  dov/n.  Then  the  house 
had  been  rifled,  and  the  band  hurried  away,  right  over  the 
summit  of  ihts  mountain. 

"  And  vvhere  were  you  ?'*  thundered  the  youth,  in  a  tone 
which  made  the  servant  quake;  * 'cowardly  wretch !  Why  are 
you  aUve,  to  speak  to  me — when  your  mistress  is  a  pris- 
oner of  the  Indians 

The  truth  soon  came  out.  The  servant  had  fled  into  the 
woods,  and  returned  only  when,  from  his  hiding-place,  he 
saw  the  band  depart. 

As  he  finished  his  reluctant  explanation,  the  old  man 
opened  hi»  eyes,  and  looked  vaguely  around. 

"  George,"  he  murmured,  "  where  is  Cannie  ?" 

And  with  a  violent  movement  he  strove  to  rise  to  his  feet. 

"  Sit  stiU,  Sir  William  I  there,  sit  still !"  said  the  servant, 
holding  him. 

"  What  have  yon  done  with  my  child  ?"  cried  the  old  man 
flushing  to  the  temples,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  such  terri- 
ble anguish  that  it  made  the  hearers  tremble;  where  is  my 
child  ?    Bring  her  hither  1" 

He  resembled  a  Hon  at  bay  as  he  thus  spoke,  with  glaring 
eyes ;  but  his  strength  suddenly  failed  him.  The  blood  gushed 
from  the  deep  woimd;  and  stretching  his  axms  out  wildly 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  fell  fainting: 

"My  child  1  my  child  r 

Gkozge's  faoe  had  turned  so  pale  that  it  frightened  the 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


serrant  and  made  him  recoil.    His  teeth  were  olenebed,  a2idl 

his  eyes  burned  with  a  steady  and  meaning  flame,  whlth  in- 
dicated the  depth  to  which  his  nature  was  aroused.  No  one 
would  have  recognized  in  the  man  of  resolute  coldness,  who 
stood  gazing  at  the  inanimate  form,  the  gay  and  smiling  boy 
which  he  had  always  appeared  to  be. 

George  was  passing  through  that  ordeax  which  tempers 
the  meucJ,  and  makes  the  soul  steel  for  the  real  struggles  of 
life. 

Take  care  of  your  master,  and  bind  up  his  wound,"  he 
said  hoarsely,  "  I  leave  him  in  your  charge.  K  he  asks  for 
his  daughter,  or  for  me,  when  he  revives,  say  I  told  you  I 
had  gone  to  bring  her  back  or  to  die  with  her  1  Remem- 
ber 1" 

And  lec*ving  tbe  room,  he  mounted  his  panting  animal 
and  pushed  dovvn  the  steep  decKvity  as  he  had  ascended. 

The  gorge  was  passed — the  river  crossed — through  the 
prairie,  which  began  to  gUmmer  in  the  first  Hght  of  daybreak, 
he  rapiiUy  advanced  toward  the  **  Three  Oaks.'* 

Many  settlers  had  assembled,  and  others  were  approach- 
ing from  every  quarter.    Above  the  crowd,  motionless  as  a 
statue,  on  his  white  horse,  the  form  of  Palconbridge  rose 
clearly  against  the  sky. 

From  the  north.  Captain  Wagner,  followed  by  a  number 
of  hunters,  approached  at  a  tremendous  gallop. 


TEB  HAfiTEB  OF  GBSENWAT  COXJVL  BIT 


OHAFTER  JJL 

THB  DEYXL's  garden* 

T  is  the  evening  succeeding  the  scenes  whick  hati 
jafst  been  related. 
The  sun  is  near  its  setting. 
A  stream  of  crimson  light,  as  red  as  blood 
bathes  the  Yh-Uerys  and  mountains,  coloring  tree  trunks, 
and  mossy  rocks  »nd  flowing  streams,  with  its  ruddy  splen- 
dor. 

As  the  day  declines,  the  deep  flush  ascends  the  trees,  and 
creeps  up  the  precipices — with  a  stealthy  crawl,  like  some 
Tariegated  wild  animal,  disappearing  in  the  depths  of  the 
gorges. 

Finally  it  raises  the  golden  crown  from  the  top  of  the 
Blue  Kidge — fades  from  the  pines  of  the  wave-like  Massinut- 
ton,  and  lingers  for  an  instarit  on  the  Great  North  Mountain, 
and  those  serried  ranges  which  extend,  like  the  huge  ribs  of 
•erne  prostrate  giant,  through  the  region  which  ia  watered 
bjr  Lost  Kiver. 

One  pinnacle  only  at  last  remains  iUuminai^d.  It  raises 
its  mighty  head  abruptly  from  the  valley,  at  a  point  not 
many  miles  south  of  the  spot  where  Lost  Eiver  sinks  and 
disappears  at  the  base  of  the  mountain,  which  vainly  seeks 
to  bar  its  advance. 

There  is  something  no  less  curious  than  majestic  abool 
this  vast  pile,  which  is  appropriately  styled,  by  onw  who  has 
described  it,  a  "  truly  wonderful  work  of  Nature." 

Between  two  ranges  of  the  bristling  mountain,  a  strip  of 
ffonnd.  about  half  a  mile  wid«. 


818 


FAIBPAX;  OR, 


the  head  of  "  Trout  Run,"  and  continues  to  mount  gradually 
for  the  distance  of  three  miles.  Then  it  suddenly  termi- 
nates in  a  dizzy  precipice — a  vast  Titanic  pile  of  dark  granite^ 
such  as  the  giants  who  warred  against  the  gods  might  Iolslyq 
heaped  up  as  a  memorial  of  one  of  their  slain  brethren4 
The  immense  mass  is  entirely  separate  from  the  surround- 
ing mountains — yawning  chasms  upon  each  hand  present  an 
impassable  gulf — in  front  the  precipice  descends  as  straight 
as  an  arrc^  to  the  depth  of  five  hundred  feet. 

The  details  of  this  singular  natural  wonder,  are  no  lesa 
striking  than  the  object  itself. 

A  portion  of  the  summit  is  covered  with  flat  rocks,  form 
ing  a  aatural  pavement — interrupted  here  and  there  by  fis* 
sures, — and  on  the  eastern  edge  stands  a  gigantic  bust  in 
granite — the  head,  neck  and  shoulders,  clearly  defined: — 
the  whole  presenting  to  the  eye  "  a  frowning  and  terrific  ap- 
pearance." Near  this  figure,  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
peak,  formerly  stood  a  granite  pillar,  ten  or  twelve  feet  high 
— ^two  or  more  feet  in  diameter,  and  four-square.  This  pil  • 
lar  has  been  broken  from  base  by  some  convulsion  of  the 
earth  or  the  elements,  and  declines  in  the  form  of  an  arch 
across  one  of  the  fissures  of  whioh  we  have  spoken. 

This  is  the  summit.  But  the  strange  details  of  the  peal? 
are  not  exhausted.  About  a  hundred  feet  below  the  base  of 
the  statue  a  door  leads  into  deep  caverns  in  the  rock.  After 
leavmg  the  entrance,  the  explorer  finds  himself  in  an  apart- 
ment with  level  floor  and  ceiling-  from  which  a  flight  oi 
stone  steps  ascend  to  another  still  larger.  In  like  manner 
twelve  flights  of  steps  give  access  to  twelve  apartments — the 
last  of  which  is  just  beneath  the  pavemeiit  of  the  summit, 
and  is  lighted  by  one  of  the  fissures  already  described.* 

Such  is  "The  Devil's  Garden."  And  to  this  wild  scene 
we  now  beg  the  reader  to  accompany  us. 

For  a  time  no  living  thing  is  seen,  except  some  huge  eagle, 
sailing  by  on  broad  wings,  above  Lost  Biver,  a  flying  fallow 


*  Hie  dMorlptUm  of  this  ringnlMr  piAo«  li  tnAiea,  almoct  word  for  word,  from  Korok^ 


THE  MASTEK  OF  GREENWAT  OCtJBT  819  ] 

Aeer^  or  %  bear,  slowly  shaking  his  black  head,  and  ranish-  j 
ing  in  tiie  tangled  thickets  of  the  mountain  side. 

The  sun  slowly  sinks,  and  his  last  beams  linger  on  the  ' 

weird-looking  statue,  and  the  vast  mass  of  piled  up  granite  , 
which  soars  above. 

The  wild  scene,  with  its  billowy  ranges,  and  glimmering  \ 

torrents  grows  wilder — the  denizens  of  the  night  begin  to  j 

wake  in  their  lairs  and  prowl  abroad  to  seek  tlieir  prey —  j 

over  the  immense  horizon,  all  bristling  with  jagged  peaks  j 

and  precipices,  the  solemn  grandeur,  and  rude  magnificence  i 

slowly  yield  to  a  brooding  gloom, — the  scene  is  an  over  ; 

turned  world,  convulsed  and  shattered — the  very  geniue  ol  j 

desolation  descends  and  reigns,  on  his  blood-red  throne  of  \ 

mountains.  ' 

The  blazing  shield  at  last  sinks  beneath  the  horizon,  and  ; 

night  stretches  its  broad  pall,  prepared  to  throw  it  over  the  ; 
whole. 

At  this  momont  a  slight  rustling  might  have  been  heard  ; 

at  the  entrance  to  the  caverns,  on  the  declivity  of  the  peak,  \ 

and  a  swarthy  face  appeared  at  the  opening,  followed  ere  ; 

long  by  a  strange  and  repulsive-looking  figure,  wL'<3h  re-  ; 
maiEied  for  &  feyoae  motionless  in  the  gathering  glooa. 


MO 


VUBTiX.  OB. 


CHAPTER  LXL 

^HE  figure  which  thus  obtruded  itself  af  on  Um 
wild  scene,  belonged  apparently  to  no  nation  or 
class,  if,  indeed,  to  the  race  of  human  beings  I 
It  was  neverth^ess  possessed  of  a  revolting  in- 
terest, and  a  lover  of  the  horrible  and  picturesque  united 
would  have  feasted  his  eyes  upon  the  animal 

He  was  a  half-breed,  about  five  feet  high,  with  a  deep  yel- 
low, or  sallow  complexion,  a  gigantic  breadth  of  chest,  long 
monkey-like  arms,  and  legs  which  resembled  the  crooked 
and  gnarled  boughs  of  a  distorted  oak.  His  forehead  waa 
scarcely  an  inch  in  height;  his  small  eyes,  as  cunning  and 
cruel  as  a  serpent's,  rolled  beneath  bushy  brows;  his  nose 
was  crooked  like  a  hawk's  biU,  and  the  hideous  mouth, 
stretching  almost  from  ear  to  ear,  was  disfigured  with  pro- 
trading  tusks  like  those  of  a  wild  boar.  The  haK-breed  waa 
dad  8A  an  Indian,  with  doeskin  leggins  and  breeches,  but 
hi^  rugged  chest  and  shoulders  were  bare.  His  enormous 
flat  feet  were  cased  in  huge  moccasins;  and  in  his  belt  he 
carried  a  knife,  a  horseman's  pistol,  and  a  tomahawk,  to  the 
nnwiped  edge  of  which  still  clung  a  quantity  of  bloody  hu- 
man hair. 

Such  was  the  figure  which  now  cautiously  emerged  from 
the  cavern,  and  cast  a  keen  and  searching  glance  upon  the 
panorama  of  forest,  mountain  and  river.  This  look  seemed 
to  plunge  into  the  obscurest  depths  of  the  gorges,  beneath 
the  heaviest  foliage,  and  to  descry  every  object  within  the 
TMiffe  of  human  visioiL 


VBM  UkBTBR  OF  0EEEHWAT  OOXTKS.  &%l 

"  AD's  safe  bo  far  !'*  muttered  the  half-breed  in  a  guttural 
and  discordant  voice,  with  a  slight  French  accent ;  "  thef 
have  either  not  followed  us,  or  the  trick  has  deceived  them. 
We  may  lay  low  here  a  day  or  two  safely,  until  the  alarm  has 
blown  over — ^then  to  work  again  1" 

As  he  spoke,  with  a  sneering  and  horrible  smile,  a  light 
hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder.  He  started  and  turned 
guddenly,  haK  drawing  his  long  knife.  Then  at  sight  ol 
the  intruder  on  his  reverie,  he  returned  the  weapon  slowly, 
as  if  against  his  will,  to  its  place,  and  said  sullenly,  with  an 
unconscious  scowl,  full  of  hatred  and  menace  : 

"  What  does  the  son  of  War  Eagle  want  with  me  ?" 

"  I  would  speak  to  the  TeUow  Serpent,"  said  a  grave,  col- 
lected voice  in  the  Indian  tongue  ;  '*the  day  is  done,  and 
the  hour  has  come  for  talking." 

With  these  words  the  young  Indian,  Lightfoot,  who  was 
the  intruder,  leaned  back  against  the  rock,  and  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  threatening  countonance  of  his  companion. 

Lightfoot  was  clad  as  we  have  seen  him  on  a  former  oc- 
casion. His  slender  but  nervous  limbs,  with  their  rounded 
but  clearly  defined  muscles,  were  cased  in  pliant  doeskin  ; 
his  narrow  feet,  with  the  lofty,  instep,  based  themselves 
firmly  on  the  crag  ;  above  his  forehead  waved  the  variegated 
plume  which  indicated  his  chiefship.  There  was  the  same 
calm  air  of  grave,  almost  melancholy  dignity — the  same 
clear  yet  mild  expression  in  the  eyes  ;  as  before,  his  figure, 
and  attitmde,  and  whole  bearing  were  characterized  by  the 
simple  and  exquisite  grace  of  a  nobleman  of  the  great  for- 
ests. 

"And  what  does  Lightfoot  come  to  say? — talk  it  out  1"  saidf 
the  discordant  voice,  which  attempted  to  assume  an  accenl 
of  friendly  interest ;  '*  the  time  is  passing,  and  much  must 
be  done.* 

"WUl  the  serpent  return  to  the  war-path  again?**  said 
lightfoot  as  before  in  the  Indian  tongue — then,  with  a  sud* 
den  change  in  his  expression,  from  gravity  to  scorn,  he  ad« 


822 


OB, 


ded,  *  but  there  is  no  war  traU  1  The  braves  are  on  th« 
path  to  the  cabins  of  women  and  childen.  The  white  war- 
riors are  away,  and  the  Catawbas  creep  over  the  fences  in 
the  night — ^they  are  rabbits,  not  panthers  !" 

And  the  lip  of  the  Indian  curled.  His  words  produced  a 
strong  effect  on  the  half-breed.  The  snake-like  eye  flashed 
fire,  and  with  a  guttural  sound  like  the  growl  of  a  wild  an- 
imal, he  laid  his  hand  on  his  knife,  and  seemed  about  to 
throw  himself  upon  the  speaker. 

The  young  Indian  did  not  move  a  muscle,  or  remove  his 
scornful  eyes  from  the  face  of  his  companion.  With  a 
movement  wholly  simple  and  unostentatious,  he  rested  his 
hand  on  the  hilt  of  a  long  poniard  in  his  belt,  and  contin- 
ued to  gaze  at  the  other. 

"Does  Lightfoot  know  what  he  is  saying?"  said  th« 
half-breed,  growling  and  letting  his  hand  falL 

"  Yes,  the  truth,"  was  the  reply. 

"/am  one  of  these  Catawbas." 

"  I  know  that  you  are." 

"  And  you  teU  me  to  my  face  I  am  a  rabbit:  you  dare 
"  I  dare  1"  said  Lightfoot,  with  superb  scorn,  "  it  is  little 
to  dare  !" 

Again  the  hand  of  the  Yellow  Serpent  wandered  to  his 
weapon:  but  he  seemed  to  want  courage  to  attack  his  ad- 
versary. A  glance  at  the  precipice  near  which  they  were 
standing — a  glance  as  rapid  as  lightning,  and  fuU  of  horri- 
ble menace — betrayed  the  thought  which  passed  through 
his  mind.  But  it  was  not  carried  kito  act.  The  young  man 
seemed  to  exert  a  singular  iafluence  over  him — he  evidently 
hated  him  bitterly,  but  he  cowered  almost  before  his  eye, 
and  yielded  in  the  contest.  The  threatening  scowl  disap- 
peared :  the  hand  fell  again:  with  a  grin  which  was  even 
more  repulsive  than  the  frown,  he  said,  in  a  wheedhng  and 
izisinuating  voice  : 

"  Lightfoot  is  bold  and  outspoken  as  he  has  always  been 
o-HUi  his  great  father  was  before  him,  tov  whom  twelve  tribes 


TSB  MASTEB  OF  GBEENWAI  COUBT*  Sit 

mourned  "vrhen  the  blood  ran  out  of  Ma  brave  bosom.  Biii 
let  the  Yellow  Serpent  give  Liglitfoot  a  piece  of  advice^ 
These  words  are  dangerous,  and  the  warriors  would  want  t€ 
kill  him.  They  are  nothing  to  the  Serpent.  He  is  a  half- 
breed,  and  knows  more  than  the  redfaces.  He  is  Light 
foot's  friend  and  would  serve  him/' 

"  Yellow  Serpent,"  said  the  young  Indian,  returning  U 
his  cahn  expression,  "  do  you  beheve  in  the  Great  Spirit  f ' 

The  half-breed  grinned  and  repKed: 

"  I  beheve  in  the  Great  Evil  Spirit — ^what  the  palefaces 
eftll  the  Devil — ^for  he  talks  to  me,  and  tells  me  what  to  do.* 

I  beheve  that,  Serpeiit.  But  there  is  a  good  Spirit,  too^ 
and  he  is  the  bad  Spirit's  master.'* 

The  half-breed  shook  his  head. 

"  Are  you  certain  of  that,  Lightfoot  ?** 

"  I  am  certain.  It  is  Manitou — ^the  great  and  good.  The 
Dove  of  the  Mountain  told  me  this  long  ago.*' 

"  Ah  I  ah  I  the  Dove  of  the  Mountain !"  was  the  grinning 
and  sneering  reply  ;  "  you  are  a  friend  of  the  Dove  i" 

I  am.  She  has  made  me  better.  I  am  evil,  but  not  so 
much  as  I  was." 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  the  tribe  took  her  prisoner.  But  whal 
about  the  Great  Spirit  ?" 

"  I  would  ask  if  you  think  you  do  right.  Yellow  Serpent 
when  you  put  to  death  women  and  children  ?" 

"They  are  whites,"  said  the  half-breed  with  very  great 
surprise;  "you  see  we  strangle  the  brood  when  they  are 
young,  to  get  rid  of  them." 

"You  are  cowards!  Yes,  lache  I  lacheT  said  the  young 
Indian  with  sudden  vehemence,  and  using  a  term  which  he 
had  derived  from  the  French  allies  of  the  savages,  "  lache  t 
You  are  a  dog.  Yellow  Serpent  1  But,  no,  not  even  dogi 
would  be  so  cowardly !" 

And  the  young  Indian's  eyes  were  terrible  for  their  depth 
of  indignation.  The  half-breed  cowered  before  him,  and 
dexed  not  speak.   He  seemed  to  want  nerre.   With  a  dark 


824 


7AIEFAX;  OB, 


ficowl,  which  had  in  it  something  tragic  and  dangercoB  from 

its  subtlety,  and  veiled  menace,  he  muttered  : 

Lightfoot  is  a  great  sagamore.  The  Serpent  is  not  aa 
noble  as  he  is.    Let  Lightfoot  speak." 

"  Listen,  then,  Yellow  Serpent,''  said  the  Lidian,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand,  and  speaking  in  a  voice  of  such  nobility 
and  solemn  earnestness  that  the  furious  and  shuddering 
half-breed  was  subdued  by  its  very  tones:  "  Usten,  Serpent, 
and  pay  attention  to  what  I  am  about  to  say.  Li  this  world 
are  two  tribes  of  men — ^they  are  the  evil  and  the  good. 
There  is  but  one  master  over  all,  the  Great  Spirit.  The  Evil 
One  is  his  slave,  but  is  not  chaiued.  It  is  his  business  to 
make  the  tribes  commit  evil;  and  even  now  he  is  in  your 
heart,  though  you  do  not  see  him.  But  the  Good  Spirit  is 
not  idle,  or  indifferent  to  the  happiness  of  his  creatures.  He 
is  yonder  in  the  clouds  looking  down,  and  watching.  He 
speaks  in  the  thunder  of  the  mountains — the  Hghtning  is  the 
flash  of  his  eye;  his  finger  marks  the  track  of  the  rivers;  he 
is  the  Father  of  this  world  and  its  people.  Not  a  tribe 
roams  the  forest,  from  the  a%nd  hills  of  the  mighty  lakes, 
to  the  Big  Water  of  the  Sonfe— from  the  Minnehaha  to  the 
land  of  Shawandasee — ^which  is  not  beneath  his  eye.  He 
sends  to  all,  the  bright  seasons,  the  moon  of  strawberries, 
and  the  moon  of  cohonks  ; — mondamiu  grows  for  all,  and 
plenty  crowns  the  feasts  of  all  the  mighty  tribes  of  the 
beautiful  world.  But  iix  these  tribes  there  are  some  whom 
the  Master  of  Life  looks  on  with  smiles — there  are  others 
upon  whom  he  frowns.  He  frowns  on  the  bad,  on  the  cruel, 
on  the  oppressors  of  the  weak,  on  the  slayers  of  women  and 
children  ?  Once  these  evil  people  made  him  angry,  and  the 
sea  swept  over  them — but  the  land  was  repeopled;  then  they 
grew  as  evil  as  before.  The  Master  sent  his  son  to  heal  the 
sick  ones,  and  to  make  men  pure  again.  They  nailed  him 
on  a  cross,  and  killed  him  !  But  before  he  died  he  told  them 
many  things,  and  among  the  rest  he  said,  *Let  the  children 
come  to  me — the  Master  loves  them,  and  his  land  is  ^ill  ol 


THE  HASTEB  OF  GBEENWAT  OOUBTL  SS6 


them*    He  lo\ed  them  because  they  were  weak  and  helplesf 

— and  he  told  the  tribes,  not  the  redfaces  only,  but  all,  to 
love  each  other,  and  forgive  even  their  enemies.  The  Mas- 
ter said  that  1  And  now  what  are  you  doing,  Yellow  Ser^ 
pent?  You  are  killing  the  women  and  the  children  who 
never  wronged  you  ;  you  are  not  even  acting  like  a  warrior, 
and  meeting  the  palefaced  braves  in  battle, — ^you  are  lache  ! 
lache  !  You  have  said  rightly !  The  Evil  Spirit  whispers  in 
your  ear,  and  sets  you  to  do  his  work  1  You  are  his  slave, 
Yellow  Serpent." 

And  the  young  Indian,  with  a  cold  and  collected  air, 
leaned  back  against  the  rock  from  which  he  had  half  risen 
in  the  ardor  of  his  address. 

His  words  seemed  to  affect  the  half-breed  strangely.  A 
sullen  and  gloomy  expression  came  to  his  hideous  features, 
and  he  cowered,  almost.  The  young  chief  plainly  exercised 
%  singular  dominion  over  the  monster.  Then  this  sullen 
air  disappeared—  a  flash  of  concealed  hatred  darted  from 
his  eyes — lastly,  the  former  crafty  and  insinuating  griu  sue* 
ceeded. 

"  Lightfoot  is  a  great  brave,**  he  said;  the  Serpent  can- 
not talk  with  the  son  of  War  Eagle.  I  think  I  will  tell  the 
tribe  what  he  says,  and  in  future  they  shall  spare  the  women 
and  children  of  the  pale-faces,  whom  Lightfoot  loves  better 
than  his  own  tribe.    Oh,  yes  1  we  will  not  kiU  any  more  !** 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"  Yellow  Serpent,"  he  said,  "  I  know  you  very  weU,  and  I 
do  not  trust  you.  The  word  of  a  brave  is  his  word — ^yoors 
is  the  word  of  a  half-breed.  You  hate  me,  and  are  envious 
of  me,  because  when  we  rise  at  the  same  moment  to  speak 
to  the  tribe,  the  warriors  say,  *  Let  us  hear  the  son  of  War 
Eagle.*  You  would  destroy  me — ^but  I  fear  you  not.  Be- 
ware! You  have  said  that  I  love  the  pale -faces.  That  is 
true.  They  are  the  children  of  the  Great  Spirit,  like  the 
red-faces.  They  have  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  will  speak  for 
ihem  as  T  have  spoken  in  counciL    Enough.   They  are  ob 


326 


FAIRFAX;  OR, 


the  war-path  even  now,  and  the  bullet  for  your  heart  may 
be  moulded.  Yellow  Serpent,  you  are  evil ;  the  Devil  of  the 
whites,  truly,  is  your  friend.  Beware  of  him — he  will  tear 
you  limb  from  limb,  and  devour  you.    I  have  spoken! 

And  turning  away,  the  young  Indian  swept  the  landscape 
with  a  comprehensive  glance,  and  re-entered  the  cavern,  in 
depths  of  which  he  disappeared. 

The  half-breed,  who  seemed  to  be  agitated  strangely,  and 
through  under  a  magnetic  influence,  remained  motionless. 
This  iYifluence  was  slowly  dissipated ;  his  crafty  grin  re- 
turned, and  with  a  menacing  flash  of  the  glittering  eyes,  he 
followed  Lightfoot  into  the  cave. 

For  five  minutes  he  had  been  covered  by  a  dozen  rifles, 
from  the  depths  of  the  opposite  mountain  where  Captain 
Wagner  and  his  party  lay  concealed. 


aU  MASTBB  OF  GBE£JN~nrAY  0017BI& 


Lxn. 

THE  TBAIIm 

HE  party  had  sf  t  Dut  from  the  "  Three  Oaks  m 

twenty  minutes  after  the  arrival  of  Captain  Wr^g- 
ner  That  worthy,  who,  now  that  the  contest 
WHS  approaching,  grew  as  cold  and  deliberate  as 
an  automaton,  would  not  wait  for  Lord  Fairfax,  and  hia 
troop.  In  br^ef,  quick  word??,  he  delivered  his  orders — ex* 
plained  that  he  was  officially  ".>mmanding  for  the  Earl,  the 
Lieutenant  of  the  county — and  reviewed  the  arms  and 
equipments  of  the  party.  Th»^y  were  hunters  for  the  most 
part,  and  carried  rifles  and  powder-horns.  Nearly  every 
one  had  his  provision  of  jerked  beef  for  the  expedition. 

The  rapid  examination  having  proved  satisfactory,  the 
Captain  took  the  head  of  the  party,  and  directed  lu«  marih 
straight  toward  the  Cedar  Creek  Mountain  to  the  west,  in 
nrhich  direction  his  knowledge  of  the  country  and  of  the 
kabits  of  the  Indians  told  him  that  the  band  had  gona. 

They  marched  rapidly  and  silently  until  noon  without 
finding  any  traces;  but  all  at  once  they  came  upo.T>  a  c^bin, 
rifled  of  its  contents  and  half-burned.  The  fire  had  evi- 
dently gone  out.  and  a  miserable-looking  woman  who  had 
escaped  on  the  appearance  of  the  savages,  and  only  re- 
turned when  they  went  off,  was  crouching  by  the  ciiimr.ey 
comer.  Captain  Wagner  leai'ned  from  her  that  liis  views 
were  correct  in  relation  to  the  direction  taken  by  the  band, 
and  all  set  forward  with  new  ardor. 

They  soon  entered  the  wild  range  of  the  Cedar  Creek 
Mountain,  and  here,  in  the  soft  earth  along  the  stream, 


828 


FAIBFAX;  IB, 


struck  OK  an  tmmistaiiable  trail    At  points  also  distant  only 

a  few  yards  from  each  other,  the  boughs  were  bent  down 
and  broken,  and  the  prints  of  feet  were  easily  traced  in  th« 
earth. 

Captain  Wagner  pointed  these  out  to  Falconhridge. 

"  Miss  Argal's,"  he  said,  briefly,  indicating  a  deep,  narrow 
footprint;  "  and  there's  my  friend's,  broader  and  heavier.** 

They  pushed  forward  with  new  ardor,  and  followed  the 
footprints  for  several  miles.  Then  the  Captain  suddenly 
drew  rein,  and  exclaimed: 

"  Stop !  what's  this  V  The  marks  are  no  longer  to  be 
seen." 

And  the  Borderer  dismounted  and  examined  the  ground 
in  every  direction.  The  female  footprints  had  disappeared; 
but  in  place  of  them  were  unmistakable  indications  of  blooA 
An  ominous  frown  passed  over  the  face  of  the  Captain,  and 
he  looked  at  Falconbridge.  He  was  trembHng.  As  to 
George,  he  was  as  pale  as  death. 

''It's  nothing,"  said  the  Borderer,  assuming  a  stolid  look; 
**  see,  here  are  the  broken  boughs  still." 

In  fact,  these  indications  of  the  route  which  the  band  had 
taken,  as  well  as  heavy  moccasin  footprints,  were  still  visi- 
ble. As  the  prisoners  had  undoubtedly  resorted  to  this 
device  to  direct  the  search  of  their  friends,  those  prisoners 
were  yet  aKve. 

"  May  the  devil  take  me  if  I  understand  thatl"  said  tlit 
Captain,  frowning,  "  but  we'll  push  on." 

The  path  now  lay  toward  the  north.  They  had  fol* 
lowed  it  for  five  miles,  when  it  suddenly  entered  a  stream  a 
hundred  yards  wide.  Captain  Wagner  plunged  in  and 
forded.  On  the  opposite  shore  there  was  no  sort  of  indica- 
tion of  the  passage  of  the  band.  The  broken  bushes  had 
continued  regularly  to  the  stream — ^there  they  suddenly 
stopped. 

Could  they  have  taken  to  canoes  ?  No,  the  band  was 
•ridently  too  numerous,  and  the  savages  could  have  broughl 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  OOUKR 


829 


none  with  them.  "What  was  the  explanation?  Why  had 
those  marks  disappeared?  The  Borderer  knit  his  brows 
and  reflected;  then  suddenly  he  pushed  back  through  the 
water  and  went  straight  to  one  of  the  limbs  which  had  been 
bent  down  and  broken.  He  examined  it  attentively  for  an 
instant,  and  then  leaped  into  the  saddle  again. 

** About  face,  friends,"  he  said,  "we  are  on  the  wrong 
trail    Follow  I" 

And  he  set  forward,  quickly,  returning  over  the  ground 
which  they  had  just  traversed. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  retreat,  Captain?"  said 
Falconbridge,  who  seemed  possessed  by  a  sort  of  reckless 
excitement,  "we  lose  time." 

"  We  have  lost  much,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  Those  broken  boughs  "  

"Are  devices.  Look  at  'em,  Falconbridge !  Don't  yon 
perceive  that  they  are  thicker  than  any  woman  could  break 
— and  more  than  one  higher  than  any  but  a  man  could 
reach  ?  Then  observe  how  plain  they  are !  As  much  as  to 
say  'Come  on!  don't  mistake  !'  Prisoners  never  could  have 
broken  'em  without  being  noticed — ^it's  a  bUnd,  and  soon 
you'll  see !" 

Without  further  words  the  Borderer  pushed  forward 
followed  by  the  party,  who  knew  him  well,  and  did  not 
think  it  at  all  necessary  to  question  him.  They  soon 
reached  the  spot  where  the  blood  was  visible,  and  the  foot- 
prints of  the  females  disappeared. 

Friends,"  said  the  Borderer,  after  nosing  the  ground  for 
some  moments,  Uke  a  dog,  and  examining  the  dry  grass  and 
twigs  in  every  direction,  "we  are  on  the  trail  again.  At 
this  spot  the  bloody  rascals  discovered  the  trick  of  the  wo- 
men to  direct  us,  and  one  of  'em  was  struck  with  a  toma- 
hawk 1  No  blazing  eyes  Falconbridge,  or  George ! — maybe 
it  was  a  fi'iend  of  mine  !  If  so,  111  bew  down  the  devils  to 
the  last  man,  or  die  1  But  come  I  The  device  is  plain  1  The 
women  were  taken  up,  or  their  shoes  removed  here,  and  th9 


sso 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


fellows  sneaked  off  with  'em,  .eaving  no  tracts,  wbile  a  pari 

of  tbe  band  went  off  north  breaking  limbs  and  stamping  in* 
to  the  ground  to  mislead  lis.  When  they  came  to  the  ri^er, 
they  waded  in  the  shallows  for  a  mile,  and  then  doubled 
back  to  join  the  main  body." 

*'  Why,  there  are  no  tracks  here,"  said  Falconbridge, 
eagerly. 

That's  so — to  your  eyes,  it  may  be,  comrade.  But  I  can 
see  'em.  Look  at  that  sprig  of  grass  broken  by  a  moccasin, 
an»i  see  this  stick  ?  Follow,  frienda !  I'm  on  the  track — I 
can  smell  'em!" 

And  fche  Borderer  set  forward  rapidly.  His  predictions  were 
soon  verified.  At  the  distance  of  si  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  bloody  spot,  the  traces  of  feet  again  became  visible,  and 
the  narrow  marks  of  high-heeled  shoes.  The  pursuit  was 
now  more  rapid  and  sure.  On  the  banks  of  Trout  Run  they 
all  at  once  found  other  footprints  approaching  from  the 
north;  and  Captain  Wagner  called  the  attention  of  Falcon- 
bridge  to  the  circumstance,  with  a  significant  look. 

At  the  head  of  the  stream,  which  the  party  reached,  as 
the  sun  began  to  sink,  all  the  footprints  disappeared  again  ; 
bat  a  curl  of  the  lip  betrayed  the  feelings  of  the  Borderer. 

"  They  are  a  bungling  set  of  rascals  after  all,"  he  said; 
"and  don't  know  their  trade,  or  I'm  a  dandy  I  Come, 
friends,  back  1" 

"Back,  Captain  I"  exclaimed  Falconbridge,  with  sur- 
prise. 

"Yes,  comrade — ^you  are  too  curious  for  a  hunter  or  a 
war  party.    Come  by  my  side,  and  I'll  explain  as  I  go." 

The  hunters  had  exhibited  none  of  Falconbridge's  sur- 
prise. They  obeyed  impUcity  the  directions  of  the  Borderer, 
and  followed  sUently  in  the  footsteps  of  his  horse.  Turn- 
ing a  huge  shoulder  of  the  mountain,  he  said  to  Falcon- 
bridge  as  they  proceeded  : 

"This  is  the  whole  thing,  companion  The  red  snakei 
baTO  crawled  into  the  caves  on  the  Devil's  Garden,  thr«f 


fEB  MAOTEB  OF  GBSSN\f A7  OOUBIb  831 


tilles  from  the  place  we  stopped  at.  If  we  had  gone  ob 
they  would  have  seen  us,  and  perhaps  laid  an  ambush  for  Oft. 
At  any  rate,  we  could  have  done  nothing." 

"Yes,  I  see,  but  may  I  ask  your  plan  ?" 

"  Certainly.  You  are  my  second  in  command,  and  it  ifl 
iimple.  I  am  going  to  skirt  this  big  shoulder,  and  mount 
the  peak  yonder.  From  the  top  of  it  you  will  see  the  pre- 
cipice of  the  Deyil's  Garden,  in  which  the  enemy  are  con- 
cealed, not  two  hundred  yards  in  front  of  you.  A  gulf  sep- 
arates it.  But  I  know  a  way  of  passing  over — there  is  a 
path  which  is  covered  with  pine  bushes,  winding  down  into 
the  gorge.  As  soon  as  night  comes  on,  if  we  see  good  we'll 
make  the  onset.  I  think  the  cards  are  pretty  well  shuffled, 
and  the  game  is  about  to  begin,  comrade!" 

As  he  spoke,  the  Captain  dismounted,  and  advised  all 
who  were  mounted  to  imitate  him.  He  took  the  saddle 
from  the  back  of  his  horse,  and  hobbling  his  legs,  turned 
him  loose  into  a  little  glen,  where  there  was  grass  and 
water.  The  rest  did  likewise  :  and  then  headed  by  the 
Borderer,  they  cautiously  wound  up  the  precipitous  moim- 
tain,  the  summit  of  which  they  reached  as  the  sun  sank 
from  sight. 

"Look,  Falconbridge !"  said  Wagner,  putting  stealthily 
aside  the  heavy  pine  boughs  beneath  which  they  were  con- 
cealed; "there  are  two  of  the  red  devils  at  the  mouth  of  tht 
Devil's  Caver 

As  we  have  8een>  these  were  Lightfoot  and  the  Hill- 
breed. 


882 


FAIRFAX;  OBi 


Lxm 

LIOHTTOOT  4ND  OANinX. 

HE  interior  of  the  cavern  presented  a  singtdaf 

appearance. 

A  bright  fire  was  burning,  and  on  all  sides  were 
piled  up  articles  which  the  savages  had  carried 
off  with  them  from  the  plundered  dwellings.  These  objects 
were  indicative  of  the  mingled  barbarism  and  childish  sim- 
plicity of  the  Indians.  There  was  much  gaily-colored 
crockery;  many  bright  Hnsey  and  other  fabrics  were  seen 
scattered  about;  and  a  few  strings  of  beads,  and  brass  rings> 
taken  from  the  dead  bodies  of  the  women  whom  they  had 
slain,  and  brought,  not  without  unwillingness,  to  the  general 
mass,  were  the  objects  of  longing  and  covetous  glances. 

The  Indians  were  forty  or  fifty  in  number,  and  were  scat- 
tered about  the  large  cavern  in  various  attitudes,  pictur- 
esque and  gxaceful,  or  odd  and  grotesque.  Here  a  great 
warrior  was  broiling  a  piece  of  venison  at  the  blazing  fire  in 
the  centre,  the  savory  odor  diffusing  itself  throughout  the 
cave: — there  an  Indian  boy  was  striving  to  put  together  the 
broken  pieces  of  a  red  crockery  dish,  which  he  had  guarded 
on  the  march  with  a  jealoi.n  care  which  indicated  the  high 
valae  which  he  placed  upon  it.  In  a  corner  a  number  ol 
the  braves  were  sleej^ing  tranquilly  in  the  red  Ught,  the 
blood  ot  the  slain  still  staining  their  tomahawks,  and  more 
thai,  one  gory  scalp  hanging  from  their  girdles,  but  slum- 
berbig,  n«->verthel«ss,  like  infants,  under  the  slnpefying 
effects  of  a  long  march,  a  heavy  meal,  and  some  rum  which 
thej  bad  laken  from  the  Ordinary, 


THK  MASTER  OF  ^REENWAY  COUKU  88S 

In  an  obscure  comer  to  which  the  light  of  the  fire  scarce- 
ly penetrated,  a  number  of  captives,  male  and  female,  with 
Oieir  hands  securely  tied,  were  huddled  together  upon  the 
the  floor  of  the  cavern,  under  a  guard,  who  watched  them 
with  grave  intentness.  Neither  Monsieur  Jambot  ?ior 
Major  Hastyluck  was  visible,  however  : — and  we  may  ai 
weU  say  here  that  these  worthies  had  been  "  pricked  on- 
ward "  under  heavy  loads,  by  another  portion  of  the  band, 
who  had  hurried  westward,  and  were  never  more  heard  of  in 
that  region.  Hastyluck,  doubtless,  drank  punch  among  the 
Sioux  and  Catawbas — when  he  could  get  it — for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  hfe:  and  Monsieur  Jambot  taught  the  minuek 
and  reel  to  youthful  savage  maidens. 

Lightfoot  passed  through  the  group,  who  made  way  for 
the  young  chief  with  evident  respect,  and  slowly  ascended 
the  rugged  stairway  into  the  next  cave  above. 

In  this  were  confined,  under  guard  of  a  single  Indian,  who 
stood  outside,  Mrs.  Butterton,  Miss  Argal,  and  Cannie. 

The  two  former  were  sleeping,  wrapped  in  shawls,  near  a 
blazing  fire,  on  piles  of  dry  grass  which  had  been  arranged 
for  them — their  feet  swollen  and  frayed  by  the  long  journey 
— theii*  skirts  cut  oft*  below  the  knees— a  necessity  to  facili- 
tate their  movements.* 

]\irs,  Butterton  was  slumbering  fitfully;  her  dress  was 
stained  with  blood,  and  a  wound  was  visible  upon  one  ol 
her  large  fat  arms;  from  which  wound,  indeed,  had  flowed 
the  blood  which  the  pursuing  party  discovered  at  the  point 
of  divergence  of  the  two  routes.  The  dame  had  been  dis- 
covered bending  down  and  breaking  the  branches,  and  one 
of  the  chiefs  had  struck  her  with  his  tomahawk.  The 
wound  was  not  dangerous,  however.  She  slept  uneasily, 
but  evidently  without  much  physical  pain.  But,  from  time 
to  time,  her  features  would  become  distorted  by  an  expres- 


*  See  Kercheyal  in  many  placea*  This  was  a  Bystematio  practtoo  Mnosg  Uit  Tni1H*HI 
Wttti  thalr  female  oaptlTea. 


SS4 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


•ion  of  fear,  and  she  would  raise  her  hands  rildly  and  mur- 
mur some  broken  and  indistrnct  words,  which  the  young 
Indian  sentinel  would  listen  to  with  grave  interest.  Misi 
Argal  slept  as  quietly  and  sweetly  as  a  child. 

Cannie  was  awake,  and  when  the  light  tread  of  the  young 
Indian  attracted  her  attention,  the  Httle  face  became 
brighter,  and  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Lightfoot  with  the 
air  of  a  child  who  sees  a  protector  approach.  The  smile 
with  which  she  greeted  him  was  inexpressibly  sad;  but  hia 
presence  was  evidently  a  comfort  to  her. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  ^:>lad  to  see  you,  Lightfoot !"  she  said,  wip- 
ing away  two  tears  which  hung  like  dew-drops  upon  her 
fye-lashes;  "this  place  fiightens  me,  and  it  is  like  home  tc 
iee  you." 

The  word  home  seemed  to  direct  the  girl's  thoughts  to  her 
gi-andfather,  and  with  a  sudden  rush  of  blood  to  her  cheeke^, 
she  placed  both  hands  upon  her  face  and  sobbed. 

"  Oh,  me  !  they  have  killed  him !  they  have  killed  him !" 

Lightfoot  stood  for  a  moment,  silently  regarding  the  girl 
as  she  half  reclined  upon  the  couch  of  dry  grass,  her  frame 
shaken  by  sobs,  her  breast  heaving,  her  long  chestnut  curls 
falling  wildly  about  her  shoulders.  An  expression  of  un- 
speakable love  and  tenderness  came  to  his  eyes  ;  and  he 
Beemed  unable  for  the  moment  to  command  his  voice. 

He  controlled  his  emotion,  however,  with  the  wonderful 
art  of  his  race,  and  made  a  movement  of  his  hand  toward 
the  yoimg  Indian  who  stood  on  guard. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  in  the  Catawba  tongue,  "  I  would  speak 
with  the  captive." 

The  sentinel  obeyed  with  an  alacrity  which  indicated  per- 
fect willingness  to  join  his  companions  belcw,  and  disap** 
peared.  The  cavern  was  left  thus  untenanted  except  by  the 
two  persons,  and  the  sleepers,  whose  heavy  breathing  in- 
Taded  the  silence. 

Lightfoot  took  the  hand  of  the  girl  in  hia  own,  with  aa 
air  of  the  deepest  respect,  and  said,  nuldJjr : 


•THK  MASTER  OF  GEEEKWAl  COUBH  SSft 

"No,  the  J  have  not  killed  yonr  grandfather,  Mountain 
DoTe.  You  know  that  I  came  from  the  forest  as  the  Ca- 
fcawbas  made  their  attack  Had  I  arrived  sooner,''  added  the 
young  Indian,  raising  his  head  proudly,  "it  would  never 
have  happened,  for  they  obey  the  son  of  War  Eagle.  I 
came  in  time  to  stop  the  knife  which  would  have  scalped 
the  old  man : — he  is  scarcely  injured,  and  will  soon  walk  the 
mountain  again." 

"  Oh,  are  you  sure,  Lightfoot  ?"  cried  Cannie,  removing 
her  hands  quickly,  and  raising  her  wet  face,  "  are  you  sure? 
Dear  Lightfoot!  you  love  Cannie — do  you  not?  Do  not 
deceive  me  1  I  am  only  a  child,"  she  added,  weeping  silent- 
ly, "  and  very  weak,  but  I  can  bear  it — I  won't  cry !  Are 
you  certain  that  gi*andpa  was  not  killed  ?" 

"  He  was  only  wounded,  and  not  badly.  I  struck  down 
the  arm  of  the  warrior  who  would  have  scalped  him;  and 
you  know  the  tribe  directly  commenced  their  march." 

There  was  an  air  of  such  simplicity  and  sincerity  about 
the  yoimg  Indian  as  he  spoke,  that  his  words  carried  con- 
viction to  his  hearer.  Her  eyes  sparkled  with  sudden  de- 
light, her  breast  was  filled  with  a  long,  deep  breath,  which 
Beemed  to  afford  her  inexpressible  relief,  and  seizing  the 
Indian's  hand,  she  exclaimed  with  touching  earnestness 
and  affection  : 

"How  can  I  ever  love  you  enough,  dear  Lightfoot^  for 
protecting  grandpa  ?    I  will  love  you  until  I  die !" 

And  carried  away  by  glad  emotion,  before  he  was  con- 
scious of  her  intention,  Cannie  raised  the  hand  which  she 
held  to  her  lips,  and  imprinted  upon  it  a  long,  lingering 
kiss. 

A  shudder  of  delight  ran  through  the  fi^ame  of  the  young 
Indian.  His  face  flushed,  and  the  eyes  which  were  gener- 
ally so  calm  and  clear,  suddenly  filled  with  impetuous 
emotion.  A  thrill  of  happiness  agitated  his  pulses,  at  the 
foniact     the  sof t,  warm  hps,  and  he  drew  away  the  liand* 


836 


FAIBFAX:  OB, 


with  a  look  of  such  unspeakable  tenderness  that  Cannk 
colored  to  tJtie  roots  of  her  hair. 

That  look  had  revealed  to  her  in  an  instant,  with  ihe  ra- 
pidity of  lightning,  as  it  were,  the  secret  of  the  young 
Indian.  For  years  she  had  known  that  he  had  a  deep 
affection  for  her — ^from  her  childhood  l  e  had  visited  the 
mountain  cottage  regularly,  and  always  exhibited  his  fond- 
ness—but now  she  saw  plainly  that  there  was  a  deeper  feel- 
ing in  his  heart.  The  instinct  of  womanhood  explained  all 
this  to  her — she  saw  for  the  first  time,  with  agitated  eyes, 
that  the  young  Indian  loved  her  as  a  youth  loves  a  maiden^ 

And  Lightfoot  was  not  backward  in  discerning  the  new 
relations  which  must  exist  fi'om  that  moment  between  him- 
self and  Cannie.  He  saw  that  his  glance  had  betrayed  him, 
that  she  had  witnessed  his  tremor  of  delight — that  she  had 
understood  at  last  his  real  feelings.  They  had  grown  up 
together,  as  youth  and  child — they  were  no  longer  such. 
It  was  a  man  who  was  sitting  beside  the  woman  whom  he 
loved  with  a  devotion  and  tenderness  which  absorbed  hia 
very  being. 

For  some  moments  deep  silence  reigned  in  the  cavern. 
Both  were  too  much  overcome  to  speak.  A  vague  pain  and 
pity,  not  unmingled  with  tenderness,  filled  the  bosom  oi 
the  young  girl;  and  from  time  to  time,  she  stole  a  furtive 
glance  at  the  Indian,  her  cheeks  burning  with  blushes,  her 
hps  trembling.  Never  had  she  looked  so  beautiful  as  at 
that  instant.  The  curls  of  her  chestnut  hair  fell  in  glossy 
masses  around  the  pure  yoimg  face  with  its  innocent  and 
grave  sweetness — the  slender  figure  inclined  sidewise,  in  an 
attitude  of  exquisite  grace — the  head  was  bent  over  the  left 
shoulder,  and  nearly  rested  upon  it: — m  outline  and  car- 
riage, in  the  entire  character  and  expression,  of  the  girl, 
there  was  no  longer  anything  of  the  child:  it  was  a  woman, 
and  a  woman  of  surpassing  loveliness,  who  had  burst  into 
bloom — passed  suddenly  from  the  bud  to  the  perfect  flower 
Had  sorrow  caused  thi»  rapid  4tT6iopment  ?   It  maj  ban 


THE  MASTER  OP  GBEENWAY  COUBT. 


been  so.    But  often  a  similar  phenomenon  tajres  place  frith* 

out  any  visible  reason. 

It  was  then  that  the  young  Indian  proved  the  nobility  of  hifl 
nature.  Instead  of  taking  her  hand,  he  drew  his  own  away. 
Instead  of  gazing  into  the  blushing  and  agitated  face,  to 
discern  if  his  feelings  were  returned,  he  lowered  his  eyea 
For  some  moments  his  gaze  remained  fixed  upon  the  floor 
of  the  cavern,  and  the  heaving  muscles  of  his  chest  alone 
indicated  the  terrible  war  of  emotion  in  his  bosom. 

When  he  raised  his  head  he  had  become  calm  again. 
There  was  no  longer  any  light  in  his  eyes,  any  flush  in  hia 
cheeks;  and  the  lips  were  firm  again.  A  grave  sweetness 
and  serenity,  just  tinged  with  melancholy,  had  replaced  the 
sudden  rush  of  ardent  emotion.  It  was  the  face  full  of  seri- 
ous and  noble  dignity  to  which  she  was  accustomed  :  and 
Cannie  blushed  again,  as  she  looked  into  the  clear  eyes,  as 
the  woman's  thought  came  to  her — he  is  so  noble,  and  he 
loves  me  1 

For  some  moments  they  sat  gazing  thus  in  silence  at  each 
other.  Then  the  young  Indian  gravely  took  her  little  hand 
in  his  own,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  with  the  expression  of 
a  devotee  at  the  shrine  of  his  saint. 

"  Lightfoot  is  a  poor  weak  boy,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
which  had  not  recovered  its  calmness  wholly;  ''he  has  done 
wrong.  But  the  little  Mountain  Dove  will  forgive  him — 
will  she  not  r 

"Forgive  you,  Lightfoot?'*  murmured  Cannie,  almost  in* 
audibly,  "  why,  what  have  you  done 

"What  was  wrong,''  said  the  voung  man,  shaking  hi* 
head,  sadly.  "I  cannot  conceal  anything — my  father  al- 
ways made  me  act  honestly — I  have  tried  to  be  the  son  of 
War  Eagle  in  truth,  and  this  puts  the  words  in  my  mouth. 
I  have  done  wrong,  because  I  have  spoken  with  my 
eyes  to  the  Dove,  as  a  young  pale-face  may  speak — and 
said,  *I  love  you.'  I  am  not  a  pale-face,  I  am  a  poor  In- 
dian, and  inferior  to  the  tribe  beyond  the  Big  Water.  It  ii 
16 


m 


FAIRFAX;  OJR, 


Bot  right  tliat  my  father's  son  should  do  this— that  h% 
should  come  to  the  little  white  Dove  when  she  has  no 
friend  near  her — ^when  she  is  a  captive  in  the  hands  ol 
Lightfoot's  tribe — and  say, '  I  love  you,  and  would  have  you 
love  me  as  your  chosen  warrior/  No,  no,"  said  the  young 
Indian,  his  cheeks  filling  in  spite  of  every  effort,  and  hiiB 
voice  trembhng,  '*that  is  wrong,  and  my  father's  spirit 
frowns  upon  me  from  the  sky  !" 

And  turning  away  his  head,  the  speaker  uttered  a  deep 
sigh,  which,  but  for  his  immense  self-control,  would  have 
turned  into  a  groan. 

The  girl  blushed  and  avoided  his  gaze  as  he  spoke ;  but 
now  recovering  her  voice,  said  in  low,  broken  accents  : 

"  You  pain  me,  Lightfoot !  You  hurt  Cannie.  Do  not 
talk  thus.  I  am  only  a  child,  and  you  must  love  me  as  be- 
fore— ^for — for — I  love  you  dearly — dear,  dear,  Lightfoot !" 

She  had  not  intended  it.  She  never  would  have  uttered 
4he  words  had  she  reflected  for  a  single  instant  upon  the 
meaning  which  he  must  attach  to  them.  It  was  an  impulse 
of  irresistible  pity  and  kindness  which  carried  her  away — of 
woman's  tenderness  for  one  who  loved  her  and  suffered — 
of  admiration  and  old  affection,  and  lonely  weakness.  She 
burst  into  a  flood  of  tears  as  she  spoke,  and  then  suddenly 
drew  her  hand  away. 

The  young  Indian  had  seized  it  with  passionate  tender- 
ness, and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"No — no!"  she  sobbed;  "do  not!  do  not,  Lightfoot  I  I 
did  not  mean — how  unhappy — how  miserable  I  am  !" 

And  the  voice  died  away  in  an  inarticulate  murmur.  The 
Indian  drew  back,  and  folded  his  arms.  He  saw  his  terrible 
error  in  an  instant,  and  in  its  whole  extent.  His  heart 
turned  cold,  and  with  close-set  teeth  he  remained  ai 
eilent  and  rigid  as  a  statue,  his  dark  eyes  burning  with 
a  fixed  and  immovable  despair.  The  girl  spoke  first : 
her  voice  was  broken  and  ag;itated.  Sobs  interrupted  it,  ai 
tTBTj  iufitani. 


THE  MASHEB  OF  QBEEKWAY  OOUBTv  83* 

"  I  was — wrong  :  it  was  cruel  to — mislead  yon.  I  wiU 
not  affect — ^any  ignorance  of  your  meaning  I  Wiil  jou— • 
pardon  me?  I  am  not  strong  and  calm  like  you,  Light- 
foot,"  she  continued,  wiping  her  eyes,  and  continuing  more 
calmly,  "I  am  only  a  child,  and  I  could  not  help  saying 
how  much  I — loved  you,  as  my  dear,  dear  friend  and  play- 
mate, at  our  dear  little  home!  I  did  not  think — ^but  I  will 
not  speak  of  that  any  more!  Indeed,  you  are  very  deal 
to  me,  for  you  have  been  kind  and  good  to  me  alway^i, 
iind  to  grandpapa,  and  I  admire,  and  look  up  to  you,  Light-" 
foot.  I  am  only  a  child  yet,  and  not  a  woman.  You  will 
love  me,  will  you  not,  as  a  child — as  you  always  loved  me — 
and  I  will  love  you.  You'll  be  my  brother  and  friend,  will 
you  not,  Iiightfoot 

And  Cannie,  with  all  the  simplicity  and  innocence  of  a 
child,  looked  into  the  young  Indian's  agitated  face,  smiling 
through  her  tears,  and  appealing  to  him,  as  it  were,  for  care 
and  protection. 

A  last  contraction  of  the  Indian's  features  betrayed  tho 
depth  of  the  despair  which  he  controlled  with  a  will  of  iron. 
He  had  conquered  himseM.  His  face  grew  calm  and  grave 
again — ^he  returned  the  confiding  look  of  the  girl  with  one 
of  brotherly  kindness  and  affection. 

"I  thank  the  Great  Spirit,  who  has  blessed  the  poor  son 
of  War  Eagle  with  these  moments,"  he  said,  raising  hie 
Qoble  head  and  eyes  toward  heaven,  "  I  thank  the  Master  of 
Life  more  than  all  for  placing  me  where  I  may  show  the 
young  Dove  of  the  mountain  that  I  am  her  friend.  Let  her 
cease  to  remember  the  wild  words  which  Lightfoot  has  ut- 
tered— thev  came  from  his  Hps  without  asking  him  to  let 
them.  But  the  blood  shall  flow  out  of  his  heart  as  readily 
for  the  Dove  who  has  spoken  to  him  so  kindly.  Yes,  yes,  I 
wiU  be  your  friend.  Mountain  Dove — the  hour  is  near  when 
I  will  prove  it.  Forget  now  the  words  I  have  spoken,  and 
ileep.   But  pray  for  the  poor  son  of  War  Eagle  first" 

**0h»  yef»r'  said  Cannie^  wiping  away  her  t6&ra»  '^lei  ua 


840 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


pray  together  as  we  have  often  done  at  home,  Lighi 
foot!" 

And  taking  the  Indian's  hand,  the  young  giil  knelt  at  hif 
side,  and  murmured  a  prayer  for  him,  for  her  grandfather, 
and  for  all  whom  she  loved. 

It  was  a  touching  spectacle,  to  see  the  young  man  and 
the  girl  thus  kneeUng  beside  each  other  in  the  gloomy 
cavern,  only  half  revealed  by  the  stray  gleams  of  the  dying 
fire.  They  were  of  different  and  hostile  races — ^they  were 
in  deadly  peril — the  hours  that  came  rapidly  would  decide 
life  or  death  for  them — but  tliey  prayed.  They  prayed  ad 
tranquilly  and  hopefully,  their  hunble  prayer,  as  though 
they  knelt  at  home  in  the  little  mountain  dwelling.  And 
mortals  may  do  as  much  everywhere. 

When  Lightfoot  slowly  retired,  his  face  was  quite  cairn. 
His  great  soul  was  untroubled.  He  had  yielded  his  heart 
and  future  to  the  "  Master  of  Life,"  and  was  tranquil. 

Fifteen  minutes  after  he  had  disappeared  down  the  stair- 
case, the  Half-breed,  who  had  been  concealed  in  a  dark 
nook  at  the  entrance,  glided  out,  and  entered  the  otaw&x^ 
teom  which  he  had  just  emerged. 


VBM  MABtEB  Of  G^EEKWAt  OOtJlOt 


LXIV. 

CHE  SLAYE  AKD  HIS  MISTBES8. 

XHATJSTED  by  the  painful  conflict  of  emotioni 
in  the  scene  with  Lightfoot,  Cannie  had  quickly 
followed  his  injunctions,  and  fallen  asleep. 
"When  the  Half-breed  stole,  with  the  stealthy 
step  of  a  creeping  tiger,  into  the  apartment,  the  girl  wfw 
lying  upon  her  couch  of  dry  grass,  and  breathing  regularly 
as  she  slumbered.  The  hideous  being  paused  for  a  moment 
upon  the  threshold;  and  then,  with  a  cowed  and  humble 
air,  approaehed  the  group,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  form  oi 
Miss  ArgaL 

This  man,  if  he  may  be  called  such,  was  one  of  those 
strange  and  anomalous  beings  who  appear  from  time  to 
time  on  the  earth,  to  falsify,  it  would  seem,  every  rule  and 
maxim  in  relation  to  human  character.  Deformed  in  body 
and  mind — a  revolting  monster  to  the  eye,  and  no  less  a 
repulsive  object  to  the  mind — ^he  yet  possessed  a  strange 
sensitiveness  to  beauty  and  nobility,  and  cowered  before 
them  as  a  slave  before  the  whip  of  the  master  whom  he  re- 
cognizes. We  have  seen  that  in  the  interview  with  Light- 
foot,  the  Half-breed,  in  spite  of  his  hatred  and  jealousy, 
was  unable  to  meet  the  eye  of  the  young  chief.  The  pres- 
ence of  the  son  of  TVar  Eagle  defeated  all  his  calculations — 
his  influence  in  the  tribe  was  seriously  lessened  —the  youth 
had  called  him  a  slave,  and  what  was  more  terrible  still,  had 
used  the  word  which  made  his  blood  boil  within  him — the 
word  "  lacke  /"  Yet  in  spite  of  all  this,  in  spite  of  his  most 
powerful  efforts,  he  had  been  compelled,  by  some  irresistible 
power»  to  crouch  before  the  youth,  and  bend  his  back  to  th^ 


842 


FAIBFAX,  OB. 


L><iii,  and  submit  his  own  will  to  ilie  nobler  nature  of  hii 
insulter. 

This  singular  submission  of  tlie  lower  natm'e  to  the  higher, 
now  influenced  him  in  his  feelings  for  Miss  Argal.  Hii 
training  and  previous  life  had  all  tended  to  degrade  the  fe 
male  sex  in  his  mind.  Among  the  Indians  they  were 
Bcarcely  more  than  beasts  of  burden,  and  to  say  that  he 
resembled  a  woman  was  the  most  terrible  insult  that  could 
be  inflicted  on  a  brave.  Nevertheless,  the  young  lady  ruled 
him  despotically  from  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting. 
Her  strange  and  extraordinary  beauty,  the  brilUant  fascina- 
tion of  her  eyes,  her  exquisite  grace  of  attitude,  and  undula- 
ting movements,  aU  impressed  him  deeply,  and  made  hig 
pulses  throb.  He  had  kiUed  her  father  with  his  own  hand, 
and  quartered  the  body.  It  was  the  Half-breed  who  stuck 
the  bleeding  head  upon  the  stake,  and  inflicted  a  last  gash, 
as  he  danced  gaily  around  it,  like  a  goblin  of  darkness.  It 
was  his  iron  clutch  which  had  dragged  IVIiss  Argal  from  her 
chamber,  into  the  light,  and  his  tomahawk  had  been  lifted 
above  her  head,  to  dash  her  brains  out. 

The  tomahawk  had  not  fallen.  The  torches  had  no 
sooner  poured  their  bloody  light  upon  the  beauty  of  the 
yoimg  lady,  than  true  to  his  strange  instinct,  the  Half-breed 
recognized  his  superior.  His  arm  fell — he  recoiled,  as  it 
were,  before  her;  and  then,  thrilling  with  a  vague  and 
secret  pleasure  at  the  thought  that  she  was  in  his  power, 
he  had  protected  her  from  insult  and  injury,  with  the  fury 
of  a  father  who  guards  the  person  of  liis  beloved  daughter. 

Al  fM  thought  that  ^ihe  was  in  his  power  !  Such  was  really 
the  first  reflection  of  the  Half-breed — tfie  flattering  unction 
which  he  laid  to  his  fierce  and  degraded  soul.  He  soon  dis- 
covered that  their  relative  positions  were  reversed.  He  was 
the  slave  of  her  beauty  and  exquisite  gi-ace,  and  lik6  a  slave 
he  applied  himself  to  the  task  of  waiting  on  his  mistress. 
The  burdens  which  the  tribe  had  placed  upon  Miss  Argal's 
pretty  round  shoriders^  and  beneath  which  she  bad  bent 


) 


rm  3£ASTEB  OF  (JBEEKWilY  OOUBT.             844  ' 

down,  ciying,  were  iitdignantiy  reino^;  ed.    He  took  them  on  ■ 

his  own  emonnous  back,  to  appease  tiie  Indians,  and  walked  j 

by  her  side,  grinning  hideouEly,  and  conversing  vrith  the  : 

captive.  > 

She  had  soon  discovered  the  influence  which  she  poa-  \ 
«essed  over  her  conqueror,  and  had  applied  herseK  to  the 

cask,  throughout  the  march,  of  deriving  benefit  from  it  ; 

Fortunately,  a  falsehood  of  the  Half-breed  prevented  the  i 

poor  girl  fi'om  being  bowed  down  to  the  ground  by  the  hor-  j 

rible  recollection  of  her  father's  dissevered  body.    She  had  ; 

been  removed  from  the  building  before  the  Half-breed  slew  ] 

nim;  and  the  monster  coolly  informed  her  that  he  had  ; 

escaped  in  the  darkness,  and  was  unhurt.    Thus,  Miss  j 

Argal,  unoppressed  by  this  terrible  tragedy,  and  convinced  ■) 

that  her  father,  whom  she  loved  dearly,  was  safe,  gave  I 

her  attention  to  the  conquest  of  her  captor,  without  effort.  | 

She  had  dazzled  him  with  the  magnetic  lustre  of  her  eyes ;  : 

sent  a  shiver  through  his  defonned  and  rugged  frame,  by  \ 

touching  his  huge,  knotty  hand  with  her  own  little  white  ,( 

one,  as  soft  as  satin;  ^he  had  smiled  upon  the  Half-breed,  ; 

as  she  alone  knew  how  to  smile;  and  very  soon  perfected  : 

her  conquest.    Before  they  reached  their  place  of  conceal-  j 

ment,  she  had  not  only  secured  for  herself  every  comfort  ' 

and  convenience,  she  had  also  induced  her  slave  to  treat  j 
Cannie  and  Mrs.  Butterton  without  cruelty,  even  respect 

fully.    She  would  pass  her  arm  around  Cannie  when  the  ] 

child  grew  faint,  and  send  the  Half-breed  to  the  stream  to  i 

procure  water  for  her.    He  was  her  captive,  and  she  used  hei  \ 

power  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  her  compojiions,  with  i 

whom  she  shared  every  comfort.  i 

And  on  all  this,  the  strange  being  had  looked  with  appro-  ] 

bation  and  a  species  of  pleasure.    It  evidently  deHghled  ' 

him  to  humble  himself  before  the  beautiful  woman.    He  i 

seemed  thus  to  approach  nearer  to  her.    He  was  less  her  j 

abhorrence  when  she  smiled  on  him,  than  when  she  trem-  ] 
loled  before  him,  and  recoiled  as  his  oaptive.   And  here  w« 


notice  another  trait  in  this  bloody  animai.  His  phyaicftl 
ieformity  had  been,  throughout  his  life,  as  sore  a  point 
with  him  as  a  clubfoot  or  a  cast  in  the  eye  is  to  a  beau  or  a 
fashionable  young  lady.  He  had  found  himself  the  terror 
and  horror  of  the  Indian  maidens.  They  retreated  hastilj 
when  he  approached  them  and  avoided  any  chance  of  meet- 
ing him.  One  and  all  of  them  had  striven  vainly  to  conceal 
the  mirgled  fear  and  disgust  which  they  felfc  for  his  person, 
with  its  crooked,  gnarled  hmbs,  its  gigantic  torse,  its  low, 
flat  forehead,  wide  mouth,  and  protruding  tusks.  He  had 
loved  one  of  these  maidens — as  he  could  love — as  her  slave. 
Her  beauty  had  attracted  him  and  he  had  sued  for  her  hand; 
but  the  maiden  had  almost  fainted  when  his  sallow  face  ap- 
proached her  own — when  his  huge  mouth  expanded  into  a 
hideous  grin  of  servile  admiration.  When  he  took  her  hand 
in  his  great  rugged  paw,  on  which  the  black  veins  stood  out 
like  whip-cords,  she  had  shuddered,  and  drawn  it  hastily 
away.  When  he  pressed  her  to  tell  him  what  her  feeling 
toward  him  was,  she  had  rephed,  with  a  trembling  voice, 
that  she  was  afraid  of  him;  but  he  read  in  her  pale,  sick  face 
that  she  regarded  him  with  irresistible  disgust 

Such  had  been  the  weakness,  such  the  fortune  of  the  Half 
breed  throughout  his  hfe.  He  had  early  left  the  peaceful 
home  of  his  tribe,  and  joined  the  predatory  band  of  the  Ca- 
tawbas.  On  the  war-path,  in  the  midst  of  blood  and  peril, 
his  deformity  would  not  be  observed.  His  great  strength 
and  ferocity  had  soon  gained  for  him  a  conspicuous  position 
in  the  tribe.  He  became  a  chief,  and  was  what  in  othei 
walks  of  life  we  would  call  a  rapidly  rising  man.  But  the 
recollection  of  his  deformity  never  left  him.  He  yearned 
for  some  object  upon  which  to  expend  his  pent-up  feelings. 
What  those  feeHngs  were  he  never  stopped  to  inquire,  nor 
do  we  feel  able  to  describe  them.  The  Half-breed  was  a 
Enonster  of  ferocity  and  bLood,  but  he  was  still  human,  and 
not  wholly  destitute  of  human  emotion.  At  times  hia  crav- 
ing for  something — ^if  only  an  animal — ^to  love  him,  wai 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  COURT.  846 

inormotis,  irresistible  almost.  He  would  remain  for  dayi 
in  his  wigwam,  scarcely  tasting  food,  brooding  over  his  con- 
dition, and  struggling  in  his  benighted  and  sullen  mind  to 
understand  why  he  had  been  created,  and  what  his  life 
would  be.  When  he  came  forth,  and  the  tribe  whispered 
and  nodded  at  him,  and  followed  him  with  their  eyes  as  his 
squat  figure  went  by — muttering  fearfully  that  the  Yellow 
Serpent  had  been  communing  with  sx3irits — he  would  gnast 
nis  teeth  with  scorn,  and  despise  the  shallow  fools,  and  feel 
that  he  was  alone  in  the  world.  Then  he  would  return  to 
the  war-path  with  a  bloody  ardor,  which  struck  terror  into 
all  hearts;  he  would  slay  women  and  children  without  mer- 
cy; he  would  reap  undying  honor  from  his  associates — to 
go  back  and  writhe  and  growl  in  his  den  like  a  wounded 
wild  animal,  whose  body  is  festering  with  poisonous  blood 
and  corruption. 

This  was  the  thorn  in  the  ferocious  soul  of  the  HaK-breed 
— the  secret  wound  which  made  him  mad  with  pain  almost. 
He  knew  his  own  mental  and  physical  deformity,  the  dis- 
gustingly hideous  body  and  mind  which  he  possessed;  and 
he  cowered  before  those  who  were  superior  to  him.  He 
crouched  in  the  presence  of  a  pure  and  noble  soul  like 
Lightfoot's.  He  obeyed  with  the  alacrity  of  a  slave  the 
commands  of  the  beautiful  woman  who  was  in  his  power. 
He  waited  upon  her,  and  followed  her  directions  like  a  ser- 
rant.  It  is  true  that  at  times,  as  he  had  attempted  in  the 
presence  of  Lightfoot,  he  would  struggle  to  assert  the  supre- 
macy which  he  really  possessed — the  power  which  he  could 
exert  over  the  band — his  authority;  but  the  endeavor  was 
vain.  True  to  his  instinct,  as  we  have  said  before,  he  would 
yield  in  the  struggle,  bow  his  head  before  what  he  recog* 
Dized  as  above  him,  and  take  the  position  of  the  slave  again, 
awaitmg  tne  order  of  his  superior. 

Thus  the  Half-Breed  was  almost  dehghted  when  IVIiss 
Argal  commanded  him  to  do  anything.  Her  subtle  instinct 
•oon  taught  her  that  tnis  was  the  best  manner  of  treatiog 

1R<» 


846 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


hinL    The  penetrating  eyes  of  the  young  lady  discerned  the 

secret  of  her  power,  and  she  was  not  backward  in  availing 
herself  of  it.  His  respeot  and  submission  seemed  to  increase 
with  her  arbitary  demeanor.  There  was  a  strange  charm, 
too,  in  thus  humbling  the  master  of  her  fate.  As  we  have 
already  said,  she  used  her  power  lite  a  kind,  tender  woman, 
to  soften  the  lot  of  her  companions,  especially  Cannie.  She 
had  taken  a  strong  fancy  to  the  child  indeed,  and  supplied 
her  with  every  comfort  she  had.  She  took  off  her  own 
wrf*pping  and  threw  it  around  the  little  shoulders,  and 
seemed  reaily  distressed  when  Cannie  would  not  receive  it 
A-t  least  the  girl  should  have  everything  which  she  could 
procure  for  her,  however;  and  the  slave-master,  the  Half- 
Dreed,  was  calmly  directed  to  bring  this  or  that  object  for 
Cannie,  and  attend  to  all  her  wants  and  even  wishes.  The 
savage  would  grin  and  hasten  to  obey.  His  reward  was 
the  approving  smile  of  his  empress — that  smile  which  said 
to  him,  as  he  basked  in  it  with  fierce  pleasure,  "Others  may 
think  you  are  hideous  and  repulsive,  but  I  am  fond  of  you, 
because  you  comply  with  my  wishes.'*  It  was  the  long 
sought  balm  for  his  degraded  soul — the  salve  which  softened 
his  festering  w^ound.  He  could  thus  forget  for  a  time  hia 
debasement,  and  submit  his  fierce  head,  like  a  conquered 
wild  animal,  with  grumbling  delight,  to  tt  e  soft  white  hand 
which  caressed  it  without  fear  or  disgust. 

Once  arrived  at  their  place  of  concealment,  the  Half-breed 
had  applied  himself  assiduously  to  the  task  of  making  the 
young  lady's  retreat,  and  that  of  her  companions,  as  comfort- 
able as  possible.  He  had  gone  to  some  distance  and  pro- 
cured a  large  quantity  of  dry  grass  for  their  couches.  Thia 
he  had  arranged  in  the  most  convenient  manner;  and  then 
he  had  brouglit  a  quantity  of  the  linsey  sliawls  which  had 
beer  stolen,  to  protect  them  from  the  cold  air  oi  the  cavoriu 
A  fire  had  then  been  kindled,  some  supper  brought,  and  the 
savage  had  retired  as  a  servant  retires  after  fuLfilling  th/i 
toaxammOA  of  his  mistreaa* 


! 


m  MAST£B  Of  GBimmiT  OOUBS^              Mf  ^ 

Bvery  arrangement  connected  wiO  the  concealment  of  ] 

the  tribe  had  been  hurried  through  by  the  Half-breed—  ■ 

every  trace  of  their  presence  obliterated.    He  had  finally  | 

gon®  to  make  a  last  survey  of  the  horizon,  before  returning  j 

to  the  magnet  which  attracted  him  in  the  cavern  abova  ' 

We  have  seen  how  he  was  detained  by  Lightfoot,  how  they  [ 

conversed  for  a  time,  and  how  the  young  Indian  re-entered  i 

first.    When  the  Half-breed  followed  him,  he  found  that  he  i 

had  mounted  to  the  upper  cavern  where  the  three  females  ; 

were;  and  he  stealthily  glided  up  the  staircase  behind  him.  j 

Concealed  in  a  dark  nook  of  the  cave  he  had  heard  the  en-  j 

tire  conversation  between  Lightfoot  and  Cannie,  had  thrilled  i 

with  a  strange  awe  as  they  prayed,  and  remained  in  his  ] 

place  of  concealment  until  the  young  L  iJian  had  retired,  ; 
and  Canni-e,  as  he  knew  by  her  regular  breathing,  wtm 

ittleep.  j 

Be  tken  entered  and  approached  MIsb  Arg^  \ 


i 


848 


FAIBFAX:  n 


LXV. 

CALIBAN  AND  MIBANDA. 

ITE  young  lady  stirred  in  her  sleep,  and  a  if^mot 
ran  through  her  frame.  The  vicinity  of  tbi 
crouching  and  hideous  figure  seemed  ^3  exert  a 
magnetic  influence  upon  her. 
The  Half-breed  remained  for  some  time  silent  and  mo« 
tionless  at  her  side,  gazing  with  a  species  ot  ferocious  and 
yet  serrile  admiration  upon  the  beautiful  countenance, 
around  which  fell  the  profuse  *^:bon  curls — afraid  apparently 
to  awaken  the  sleeper.  Finally  he  grew  bolder;  he  crawled 
like  a  stealthy  panther  toward  the  pillow  of  the  girl,  and 
took  in  his  huge  knotty  fingers,  one  of  the  dark  curls  and 
gazed  at  it  with  the  air  of  a  child  who  holds  a  toy  which  fills 
it  with  delight. 

The  movement  awoke  the  sleeper,  and  for  an  instant  she 
gazed  with  a  dreamy  air  into  the  revolting  mask,  rather  than 
human  countenance,  upon  which  tlio  red  gleam  of  the  fire- 
light fell,  lighting  up  every  repul^sivo  detail— the  snake-h'ke 
eyes,  the  grinning  mouth,  the  hooked  nose,  and  narrow  fore- 
head, like  a  dog's  or  an  ape'a  Another  tremor  ran  through 
Miss  Argal's  form,  and  she  quickly  rose,  leaning  upon  one 
hand,  and  looking  silently  at  the  Half-breed.  In  this  gaze, 
however,  there  was  no  trace  of  fear.  Despite  the  wild  and 
frightful  scene,  the  horrible  appearance  of  the  intruder,  and 
the  half-darkness  of  the  cavern,  she  did  not  tremble  or  ex- 
hibit any  sign  of  terror.  On  the  contrary,  she  recovered 
almost  instantly  the  air  of  mistress,  which  we  have  referred 
to.  and  said  in  a  tone  of  angea 


THE  MASTEB  OP  GBEENWAT  OOUBll 


849 


••Why  did  you  come  and  wake  me?" 

The  savage  cowered,  and  retreating  two  paces,  said  hum* 
bly,  but  cunningly : 

"I  came  to  see  if  the  White  Raven,"  such  was  the  'name 
he  had  given  her,  "  was  well  wrapped  up  and  warm.  Tht 
cave  is  cold  and  damp — and  she  is  weary  with  the  journey.** 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Argal  calmly,  "  you  see  tbnt  I  am  pro* 
▼ided  for — and  now  leave  me." 

The  Half-breed  made  an  unconscious  motion  to  obey,  fol- 
lowing his  instinct — ^but  some  other  impulse  coimteracted 
the  first. 

"  Let  us  talk  a  little,  first,"  he  said,  grinning  with  a  polite 
ttir.    "  Let  the  White  Eaven  talk  to  the  Yellow  Serpent.'* 
"  I  am  weary." 

"Nevertheless  you  must  talk,"  returned  the  Half-Breed 
obdurately,  "  you  are  my  captive,  and  I  am  not  sleepy." 

Miss  Argal  saw  from  the  tone  of  these  words  that  she  had 
lost  a  portion  of  her  former  power  over  him,  and  her  mar* 
velous  tact  made  her  instantly  change  her  manner  and  ex- 
pression. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "if  you  treat  me  as  your  captive,  I  must 
submit,  and  obey  you.  Of  what  shall  we  talk,  Yellow  Ser- 
pent?" 

The  old  fascinating  glance  which  had  charmed  Falcon- 
bridge  came  back ;  and  the  dangerous  smile  of  the  dazzling 
beauty  played  upon  the  ugly  dwarf,  as  it  had  played  upon 
the  young  cavalier.  The  Half-breed  thrilled  with  a  vague 
delight  as  she  looked  thus  at  him,  and  said : 

"  We  will  talk  of  the  future,  when  you  will  be  the  Yellow 
Serpent's  wife." 

^'Your  wife!" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  resolute,  almost  savage  reply,  "  you  shall 
be  my  wife  I  I  have  sworn  it,  and  it  shall  be  so.  I  am 
unmarried,  I  am  a  great  brave,  and  you  shall  be  my  wife,  of 
I  will  keep  you  from  being  any  other  warrior's  wife— yon 
must  die,  or  be  mine  1" 


850 


FAIRFAX;  OE, 


TLe  ferocious  eyes  glared  as  lie  spote.  and  the  lips  oturled 
fiercely.  Instead  of  becoming  angry,  ]Misb  Argal  smiled  more 
sweetly  than  before.  The  will  of  the  strange  animal  pleased 
her,  whilst  it  put  her  upon  her  guard  and  aroused  all  her 
fi7iesse  to  meet  the  occasion.  She  assumed  the  pouting  ail 
of  a  child,  and  with  a  glance  filled  with  blandishment,  saidi 

"Wliy  do  you  wish  to  have  me  for  your  wife,  Yellow  Ser- 
pent ?  You  say  that  you  are  a  great  brave,  if  so,  why  hav« 
you  not  selected  some  maiden  of  your  tribe?" 

The  hideous  face  was  darkened:  the  eyes  scowled  bitterly: 

"  Because  the  maidens  despise  me,  and  get  sick  when  1 
go  near  them,"  he  growled;  "  they  are  frightened  by  my 
ugliness !  You  only  are  not  frightened,  and  I  have  sworn 
by  the  Evil  Spirit  that  you  shall  be  mine,  "^Vhite  Raven — 
mino  only!  Yon  need  not  try  to  escape  me!  I  will  kill 
myself  rather,  but  I  will  kill  you  first.  I  will  be  your  slave 
if  necessary — but  rather  than  see  you  leave  me,  or  spurn 
me,  I  will  plunge  my  knife  into  your  heart-,  and  we  will  die 
together 

He  was  ferocious,  imperial,  as  he  thus  spoke.  There  was 
something  almost  attractive  in  the  fierce  animal's  air.  Hft 
resembled  an  aroused  tiger.  It  was  the  beauty  of  strength 
and  bloody  determination. 

And  instead  of  fiightening  Miss  Argal,  it  drew  her.  Her 
feminine  nature,  in  spite  of  the  disgusting  figure  of  the 
speaker,  recognized  his  power  and  passion.  She  looked  at 
him  almost  with  pleasure,  and  said  smiling  : 

"  Well,  but  suppose  you  were  my  husband,  how  could  1 
live  away  from  home,  in  your  land  ?" 

"You  need  not,"  returned  the  savage,  returning  to  hiM 
submissive  air,  "  I  will  follow  you  back  and  become  a  white. 
Still  there  is  much  to  make  yon  go  with  me.  I  am  no 
common  Indian.  I  am  a  great  chief,  and  my  squaw  will  be 
a  gi'cat  woman  in  the  tribe.  She  shall  live  daintily,  every 
one  shall  wait  on  her.  I  will  be  king  in  the  band,  but  she 
vill  be  the  king's  king— his  beautiful  queen.   The  tendeieil 


ME  MASIER  t>F  GBEENWAY  COUBT. 


851 


^ame  shall  be  brought  to  the  tp.ble  of  tho  "^Tiite  Rav'en — the 
finest  plunder  shall  be  her  own — the  maidens  shall  ilano€ 
before  her,  and  she  shall  wear  the  handsomest  clothes  to 
(got  in  the  settlements." 

"  That  is  well;  I  hlie  that,  but  I  cannot  go.** 

*^Why?   You  must!" 

"  I  cannot." 

"You  skill r 

Miss  Argal  became  submissive  and  tranquil  She  put  het 
Sands  to  her  eyes  and  murmured  : 

"  Whj  do  you  S]3eab  to  me  so  cruelly 

Some  sobs  succeeded,  and  she  looked  through  her  tears 
at  the  Half-breed,  with  such  a  lovely  air  of  uncomplaining 
sorrow,  that  he  felt  all  his  anger  leave  him.  He  cowered 
before  her,  and  said  : 

"  The  Yellow  Seii)ent  did  not  mea,n  to  make  the  Whita 
Raven  cry.    He  is  her  slave." 

The  young  lady  dried  her  tears,  and  shaking  her  head,  re- 
plied : 

"  You  act  like  a  master,  and  I  no  longer  have  any  regard 
for  you.  When  you  were  kind  to  me,  I  liked  you ;  but  now 
I  hate  you." 

And  she  turned  away  her  head  with  an  air  of  offended 
dignity.  The  Half-breed  was  conquered  by  his  captive.  As 
she  yielded  to  his  will,  so  now  he  submitted  hke  a  slave  to 
her  displeasure.  The  resolute  expression  disappeared — his 
eyes  sank  before  her,  and  he  said  humbly  : 

"The  Yellow  Serpent  did  not  mean  to  speak  roughly. 
He  is  no  savage — he  is  almost  a  white,  and  knows  how  ten- 
der-hearted the  white  maidens  are.  Let  the  ^\Tiite  Eaven 
Decome  the  wife  of  tlie  Serpent,  and  he  will  be  her  servant 
for  life.  He  is  a  Half-breed,  he  cares  nothing  for  the  Ca- 
tawbas.  He  will  go  and  li  v^e  like  an  Englishman  in  a  house, 
and  hunt  game,  and  till  t-ie  p.roundy  jind  wait  on  tlxe  "WTiiU 
Eaven.    He  is  her  friend.''' 

You  do  not  prove  it^"  said  Miss  Argal^  coldlj. 


FAIBFAX;  0% 


« How  must  I?- 

"  Rescue  me  and  my  companions.** 

"  men  r 

«  To-night." 

The  savage  hesitated  and  reflected.    He  evidently  doubted^ 
"  If  I  do  so,"  he  said  at  length,  "  will  you  go  away  witb 
me!" 

It  was  Miss  Argal's  turn  to  hesitate — it  was  only  for  ao 
instant  however.  With  her  former  fascinating  smile  sh« 
said : 

"  I  will  go  away  with  you." 
"  And  be  my  wife  ?" 
"Yes," 

The  hideous  mask  flushed  with  joy,  and  a  broad  grin  re- 
vealed the  long  hog-hke  teeth.  The  young  lady  almost  re- 
coiled before  the  horrible  countenance — she  grew  faint  aoi 
she  saw  the  Half-Breed  gaze  upon  her  as  a  hawk  does  upon 
a  dove  which  he  has  nearly  caught  in  his  clutches.  He 
seized  her  hand,  and  would  have  pressed  it  to  his  ugly 
mouth,  but  she  suddenly  drew  it  away,  and  said  with  a 
quick  return  to  her  air  of  offended  dignity. 

"  Let  my  hand  go,  and  now  let  us  talk  of  the  means  ol 
escape.    How  will  you  devise  it  ?" 

The  Half-breed  drew  back  humbly,  and  said : 

"  I  must  think  of  that.  But  it  will  be  impossible  to  take 
the  others." 

And  he  pointed  to  Mrs.  Butterton  and  Cannie.  Misi 
Argal  assumed  an  air  of  resolute  determination,  and  replied: 
"  Then  I  will  not  go  with  you." 
Not  gol" 

"No — unless  you  rescue  them,  tool" 

"Why,  what  do  you  care  for  them?" 

"  They  are  my  friends — I  love  the  little  one  dearly.** 

And  bending  over  the  young  girl,  she  smoothed  with  a 
0oft  hand  Cannie's  disordered  tresses.  Her  smile,  as  she 
ihns  caressed  the  little  head,  was  cue  of  exquisite  8weetna«^ 


(TEE  MASTES  Of  GHEEKWAIf  COtmT. 


tod  showed  how  much  warmth  of  heart  was  concealed  be- 
neath the  warped  and  strangely  disturbed  nature  of  the 
poor  girl.  Her  savage  companion  was  not  unaflfected  by  the 
manner  of  the  young  lady.  He  was  evidently  pleased,  and 
said  at  length  : 

"  I  will  try.  But  you  at  least  shall  be  rescued.  I  am 
tired  of  my  Hfe  in  the  band,  and  have  been  thinking  that 
you  are  right  in  wanting  to  return  to  the  white  settlements. 
Yes,  I  will  give  up  the  war-path !  I  will  go  back  with  you — 
White  Raven,  you  shall  make  me  a  pale-face,  like  my  father." 

The  snake-Hke  eyes  grew  thoughtful,  and  even  soft,  as  the 
man  spoke,  and  he  plainly  returned  in  memory  to  some 
scene  of  the  past.    Miss  Argal  caught  the  changed  manner 
with  her  quick  and  acute  instinct,  and  said  : 
Was  your  father  a  white  ?" 

Tes,"  returned  the  Half-breed,  "  he  was  a  hunter  whc 
married  an  Indian  girl,  of  the  Catawbas.  My  mother  died 
when  I  was  a  baby,  and  my  father  soon  afterward.  The 
tribe  took  me,  and  one  day  my  old  granny,  who  nursed  me, 
showed  me  where  my  father  and  mother  were  buried  in  the 
woods  by  Belle  Riviere — which  the  English  call  the  Ohio. 
I  never  cried  but  once — cried  that  day.  Yes,  I  did  cry 
afterwards  when  granny  was  killed  by  a  white — I  spht  his 
head  with  my  tomahawk  though !  I  wanted  him  to  come 
to,  afterwards,  to  stick  burning  spHnters  in  his  body,  and 
roast  him  till  he  yelled  and  died  in  the  flames !" 

The  scowl  had  come  back, — the  bloody  instinct  was  re- 
vived:— ^but  it  disappeared  again,  very  soon  before  the  smiles 
of  his  companion.  She  had  evidently  marshalled  all  of  her 
attractions  for  the  task  of  subduir.g  to  her  wiU,  and  making 
a  slave  of,  the  singular  being  in  whose  power  she  found  her- 
self. No  one  could  have  discovered  in  her  air  or  expression 
the  least  indication  of  disgust,  as  she  looked  at  and  spoke  to 
him.  Her  smile  was  as  dazzling,  her  eyes  dwelt  upon  his 
countenance  with  as  pleased  and  gratified  a  look,  as  if  it  was 
Uie  face  of  a  gallant  young  gentleman^  and  not  a  salloWi  de- 


a54 


FAIEFAX;  OK, 


lurmed  ape.  In  half  an  hour  her  dominie  n  oveat  him  wai 
complete.  He  was  gazing  at  her  with  a  B]3ecies  of  submis- 
sive ecstasy:  the  soft  hand,  figm-atively  speaking,  had 
smoothed  with  its  caresses  the  bristling  head  of  the  animal^ 
and  with  delighted  growls,  he  crouched  and  cowered  at  th€ 
feet  of  his  mistress  and  keeper. 

The  details  of  the  project  of  escape  were  quickly  arranged 
At  dayUght  the  Half-breed  would  return  to  the  cavern 
where  she  slept — and  pass  through  the  fissure  in  the  roof  ol 
the  highest  cave  to  the  area  above,  with  the  three  women — 
he  would  leave  Mrs.  Buttertonand  Cannie  at  a  place  of  safety 
near  a  neighboring  fort, — and  then  he  and  Miss  Argal  would 
proceed  to  a  spot  in  the  Alleghanies,  where  a  New  Light 
missionary  Kved,  and  be  married.  Afterwards  they  would 
seek  the  northern  settlements. 

This  was  the  Half-breed's  plan.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say 
that  it  was  not  Miss  ArgaFs.  Her  design  was  to  escape 
without  the  assistance  of  the  Half-breed  ; — her  colloquy 
on  the  subject  had  a  very  simple  object.  That  object  was 
the  discovery  of  the  means  which  her  captor  would  make 
use  of  to  effect  the  escape.  She  had  attained  a  knowledge 
of  all  now: — the  fissure  in  the  upper  cave  would  permit  them 
to  pass: — and  long  before  daybreak,  they  would  all  be  far 
away. 

As  this  thought  passed  through  her  mind.  Miss  Argal  be- 
stowed upon  the  Half-breed,  her  most  winning  and  confid- 
ing smile.  She  graciously  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss — Siib- 
mitted  to  the  ceremony  without  moving  a  muscle — and  then, 
declaring  that  she  needed  rest,  smiled  him  out  of  the  cav- 
ern. 

The  animal  went  away,  shuddering  with  ill-concealed  de- 
light, and  gazing  on  the  young  woman  until  an  abutment  ol 
the  rock  hid  her  fi*om  his  view. 

With  a  sneering  smile,  IViiss  Argal  then  turned,  and  has* 
tUy,  bat  with  a  wary  hand,  awoke  her  companions. 


mm  MASfUJsA  OF  gesskwat  ootnrt  3S6 


LXVX 

LIGHT  SHINma  IN  Di  KKNESS^ 

HE  three  women  consulted  for  somo  time  m 
animated  wliispers,  and  their  plan  was  rapidlj 
formed. 

Thej  would  remain  quiet  until  the  Indians^ 
went  to  sleep;  and  then,  when  the  cavern  was  all  silent,  and 
occupied  only  by  slumbering  forms,  would  steal  up  the 
Btaircase  into  the  cave  above,  ascend  to  the  next,  then  to  the 
next — and  finally  make  their  exit  through  the  fissure  in  the 
roof  of  the  last.  Thereafter,  escape  would  not  be  difficult. 
As  soon  as  day-light  came  tliey  would  be  able  to  make  their 
way  back  by  the  path  which  they  had  followed  in  coming 
— the  broken  twigs  would  direct  tham. 

"And  then,  Cannie,"  said  Mss  Argal,  placing  her  arm 
around  the  girl,  di-awing  the  little  head  down  to  her  bosom, 
and  kissing  the  white  brow  ;  "  then,  Cannie,  dear,  you  wiU 
get  back  to  your  grandfather,  and  we  will  all  be  happy 
again." 

"Oh,  yes  I  I  long  to  see  grandpapa !"  returned  the  girl, 
clasping  her  hands;  "  he  is  miserable  about  me,  I  know,  and 
would  be  following  me,  if  he  had  not  been  wounded — Oh  I 
00  crueUy  wounded  V* 

A.  sob  accompanied  the  words. 
There,  don't  cry,"  said  the  young  lady,  smoothing  the 
girl's  curls,  "  hope  for  the  best — and  one  thin^  which  I  rely 
upon  more  than  all,  is  just  what  you  have  spoken  of — a  par- 
ty must  be  coming  to  rescue  us.    I  know  they  are  coming.** 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Butterton,  "Captain  Wagner  wiU  not 
ftej  loQg—  but  oh  1  my  poor,  poor  father  V 


fAlBfAl;  Oil, 


And  a  sob,  deeper  than  Cannie's,  came  from  the  irartti* 

hearted  woman's  lips. 

"  Captain  Wagner  will  surely  come/'  said  Miss  Argal,  a 
shadow  of  anguish  passing  over  her  countenance,  "  and — ^Mr. 
Falconbridge  1" 

She  paused  a  moment,  overcome  apparently  by  some  oruel 
memory:  then  controlling  her  emotion,  added  : 

'•^  We  must  go,  however,  and  meet  them.  That  is  part  d 
my  plan.  The  Indians  will  follow  us,  unless  they  are  afraid^ 
but  the  pursuers  will  not  suffer  them  to  re-capture  us." 

"  We  will  trust  in  God,  at  least,"  said  Cannie,  with  touch- 
ing simpKcity;  "  you  know  if  we  trust  in  Him  He  will  not  de- 
■ert  us;  and  all  He  does  is  for  the  best." 

Miss  Argal  did  not  reply.  She  seemed  suddenly  absorbed 
in  painful  reflection,  continuing  to  caress  the  girl's  hair 
Then  she  turned  her  dark  eyes  upon  the  little  face,  and 
gazed  at  Cannie  with  ar  expression  of  such  hopeless  anguish 
that  it  made  the  girl's  countenance  flush  with  pity  and  sym* 
pathy.  No  one  could  have  recognized  in  the  changed  fea- 
tures of  Miss  Argal,  the  proud  and  imp^al  woman  of  the 
past.  The  penetrating  eyes  no  longer  glittered  with  their 
dazzling  and  seductive  magnetism;  the  hps  no  longer  curled 
with  disdain  or  provoking  coquetry.  The  eyes  were  bathed  in 
moisture — the  Hps  quivered.  The  drooping  lashes  nearly 
rested  upon  the  pale  cheek;  and  as  Cannie  gazed,  tear  after 
tear  flowed  silently  down,  and  fell  upon  her  upturned  face. 

"You  are  crying !"  said  the  girl.  "  Ohl  what  are  you  cry- 
ing for?" 

The  arm  of  the  young  lady  tightened  its  fold  around  the 
slender  form,  and  bending  down  her  head,  she  pressed  a  kiss 
upon  the  girl's  hps,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  T  am  crying  because  I  am  so  bad,  and  you  make  me  so 
ashamed,  she  said  in  a  broken  voice;  "I  am  so  untruthful 
and  bad,  and  miserable  !  Oh  I  Cannie  I  what  you  have  said 
breaks  my  heart! — for  I  do  not  trust  in  God  I  I  have  tried 
but  I  cannotl  I  cannot  1  1  am  evil  and  miserable!  and  He 
hatetmer 


THE  MASTER  OF  GBEEITWAY  CX^UBT.  357 


*  Oh,  no !"  returned  the  girl,  mingling  her  tears  with 
those  of  her  companion,  "  He  does  not  hate  yon  I  He  can* 
aot,  if  you  feel  that  you  have  done  wrong  and  ask  His  for- 
giveness I" 

*'  I  cannot  ask  it !  I  am  unfit  to  pray !  Once  I  prayod 
at  mamma's  knees — but  I  have  not  prayed  for  years — I  have 
done  so  much  evil !    But — ^but — Cannie — do  you  know  I 

And  the  poor  girl  sobbed  convulsively. 

"  Do  you  know — am — my  mind  is  not  sound — am  out 
of  my  head — sometimes! — always,  I  think: — and  I  have 
thought  that  He  will  pardon  a  poor — miserable — insane  girl 
— for  her  wickedness !  Oh  !  teach  me  to  pray,  Cannie — you 
pity  me  and  do  not  turn  away — I  almost  think  God  will  for- 
give me  if  you  kneel  and  ask  Him  to.  May  I  kneel  down 
with  you?" 

Cannie  scarcely  knew  how,  but  in  a  moment  she  was 
kneehng  upon  the  floor  of  the  cavern — between  the  two  wo- 
men in  the  same  posture — and  praying  in  a  low,  broken,  but 
earnest  voice.  She  could  not  tell  how  the  words  came — she 
did  not  hesitate  an  instant,  nevertheless  ;  her  prayer  was 
tearful,  impulsive,  and  filled  with  deep  feeling. 

When  she  rose.  Miss  Argal  leaned  her  head  upon  the  ten- 
der bosom,  encircled  Cannie's  neck  with  her  arm,  and  sob- 
bing, exhausted,  trembling  with  emotion,  whispered  faintly 
in  her  ear: 

''I  think  God  has  heard  me,  and  forgiven  me." 

The  dying  firelight  no  longer  fell  upon  a  countenance  full 
of  anguish  and  shame : — a  sad  smile  played  over  the  lips 
and  half -closed  eyes : — the  heart  pressed  to  the  heart  of 
the  child  beat  tranquilly. 

At  the  same  moment  Lightf  oot  entered  the  cavern. 


MAIM  AX  I  Oi. 


Lxm 

THE  BTVAL  OF  THE  HAJLF-BSEED. 

HE  young  Indian  approached  the  gi'oup  with  thi 
silent  tread  of  his  race,  and  pausing  before  them, 
folded  his  arms  and  said  : 
"I  have  come  to  show  the  Mountain  Dove  and 
her  companions  that  they  have  a  friend." 

CJannie  raised  her  head  eagerly,  and  fixing  an  earnest^ 
blushing  look  upon  the  Indiaiiv,  murmured : 
"  Will  you  go  away  with  us,  Lightfoot 
The  Indian  inclined  his  hoad. 

"  The  tribe  are  going  to  sleep.  Soon  they  will  be  slum- 
bering. Then  I  will  carry  you  off,  an  j  place  you  on  the 
homeward  path." 

Cannie  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed  so  gratefully  into 
Lightfoot's  face,  that  the  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks,  and  it 
requiixjd  aU  his  seK-contrd*  to  suppress  the  tremor  which 
ran  through  his  frame.  He  did  suppress  it,  however  :  in  a 
moment  he  bad  recovered  his  presence  of  mind:  and  obey- 
ing a  gesture  from  the  girl,  he  came  silently,  and  sat  down 
near  the  group. 

Their  plans  were  quickly  communicated  to  him,  and  the 
expre5»sion  of  eye  which  greeted  the  announcement,  waa  one 
of  unmistakable  satisfaction.  His  reply  wa»,,  U^at  their 
plan  wu^  Ms  own.  He  had  thought  at  once  of  *lte  fissure 
in  the  upper  cave,  and  he  came  to  prepare  them  for  the 
moment  when  .he  would  silently  conduct  them  to  the 
place. 

They  oonversed  thus  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  wbi«« 


«Hfi  MA>STEB  or  GBEEWAY  OOUKR 


869 


pern,  and  arranged  all  the  details  of  the  scheme.  Ay  sooxi 
as  the  sa.vages,  in  the  lower  cave  were  sunk  in  deep  sleep, 
they  would  be  able  to  put  their  project  in  execution:  and  as 
there  were  many  indications  of  the  fact  that  the  braves 
were,  one  by  one,  yielding  to  their  long  day's  journey,  the 
realization  of  the  hopes  of  the  party  did  not  seem  very  far 
distant. 

Lightfoot  remained  then,  silent  and  motionless  in  bit 
place,  Ustening  with  the  keen  ear  of  the  Indian,  to  all  noiseg 
which  ascended  in  muffled  murmurs  from  below.  One  by 
one  these  noises  died  away  : — ^the  mutterv^.d  "  Oughs  "  of  the 
warriors,  as  they  wrapped  their  blankets  around  them,  and 
addressed  themselves  to  sleep,  became  less  and  less  fre- 
quent : — finally  all  sounds  lapsed  into  silence,  with  the 
exception  of  the  heavy  breathing  which  indicated  the  slum- 
ber of  the  tribe. 

It  was  no  part  of  the  young  Indian's  plan,  however,  to 
carry  out  his  enterprise  at  once.  He  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  echoing  pecuharities  of  the  cavern — and  his  de- 
sign was  to  wait  patiently  imtil  the  troubled  sleep  of  the 
warriors  became  a  very  heavy,  log-like  insensibihty :  and 
this  would  not  take  place  for  an  hour  or  two.  By  that 
time,  the  sentinel  also  would  be  nodding  over  the  fire,  and 
they  might  proceed  without  difficulty  to  their  undertaking. 

This  had  been  communicated  to  the  three  women,  and  by 
the  advice  of  Lightfoot,  they  had  lain  down  to  snatch  the 
hasty  slumber  requisite  to  support  them  in  their  flight  All 
obeyed,  and  worn  out  with  excitement,  were  soon  asleep. 

Lightfoot  remained  thus  silent  and  motionless  for  two  or 
three  hours,  wearily  listening,  when,  all  at  once,  a  cautious 
step  descended  the  winding  staircase  from  the  upper  cav- 
ern. He  rose,  for  this  could  scarcely  be  one  of  the  Indianek 
With  his  hand  on  his  knife  he  waited.  Then  at  sight  of 
the  figure  which  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavom,  h« 
uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  astonishment 

It  was  the  figure  of  Falconbridge. 


MO  FAIBFAX  CMH, 


Lxvm. 

THB  HABCH  OF  THE  HUNTEBl. 

^IIE  appearance  of  Falconbridge  is  easilj  m* 
plained. 

Captain  Wagner  and  his  companions  had  no 
sooner  crept  to  their  hidden  position  on  the 
brow  of  the  opposite  precipice,  and  concealed  themselves 
beneath  the  heavy  foliage  of  the  dense  pines,  than  a  council 
of  war  was  called. 

The  question  to  be  determined  was  a  simple  oi^%  Should 
they  make  an  attack  before  nightfall  upon  the  occupants  of 
the  cavern,  trusting  to  their  superior  arms,  or  wait  until 
midnight,  when  the  band  was  asleep,  and  then  surprise 
them,  and  put  them  to  the  knife?  Some  members  of 
the  party  advocated  the  former  plan,  and  urged  the  fact 
that  the  Indians  were,  no  doubt  now,  according  to  their 
invariable  habit,  overcome  with  Hquor.  They  had  certainly 
carried  off  from  the  Ordinary  as  much  rum  as  sufficed,  by 
the  account  of  the  servant  who  had  escaped — and  nothing 
would  be  easier  than  to  pile  up  brush  at  the  mouth  of  cav- 
ern, set  fire  to  it,  and  force  the  Indians  to  an  open  combat, 
as  the  alternative  of  being  suffocated  by  the  dense  smoke. 

This  proposition  found  favor  with  numerous  members 
of  the  party,  but  they  waited  to  hear  the  opinion  of  Cap- 
tain  Wagner.  The  Borderer,  who  had  Hstened  attentively, 
and  when  the  speaker  ceased,  closed  his  eyes,  and  with  knit 
brows  reflected  rapidly,  now  shook  his  head,  and  growled  . 

"It  won't  do!  Friend  Huger,  your  scheme  is  a  good 
one,  I  don't  deny,  and  shows  that  you  have  been  after  thii 
iort  of  game  before — ^but  there's  a  flaw  in  it,  that  kiUa»  I 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  OOUET.  861 

don't  object  to  smokmg  the  copper-faced  devils,  and  snffo 
eating  'em;  if  I  could  do  it,  I  would  put  every  Injun  in 
America  in  the  big  cave  I've  heard  of,  in  the  Blue  Ridge  up 
the  valley  yonder,  heap  up  whole  pine  trees  at  the  mouth, 
get  *em  afire,  and  smoke  my  pipe  with  pleasure  as  I  heard 
*em  yeUing  and  howling  in  the  death  agony.  That  would 
be  good  sport,  or  the  devil  take  me  I  But  it  won't  do  here ! 
fhese  varmints  are  not  the  only  people  in  the  cave. 

"  To  our  certain  knowledge  there  are  three  ladies  in  the 
hmds  of  these  miscreants,  Mrs,  Butterton,  Miss  Argal,  and 
Uttle  Miss  Cannie  from  the  mountain  yonder,  George  says. 
Now  the  smoke  would  suffocate  the  women,  too,  and  that's 
not  a  part  of  our  plan.  I  accordingly  reject  it,  as  commandant 
of  the  troop,  and  will  give  my  own  views,  which  I  shall 
carry  out,  unless  they  are  met  by  others  better.  I  know  the 
*  Devil's  Garden  '  by  heart.  There  is  a  path  from  this  ridge 
along  the  precipice,  which  wiU  take  us  from  one  side  of  the 
gulf  to  the  other.  I  propose  that  we  wait  until  past  mid- 
night, when  the  scoundrels  will  be  dead  asleep — and  then  we 
can  make  the  attack.  We  can  approach  in  either  of  two 
ways.  The  cave  can  be  entered  from  the  opening  yonder 
where  the  two  savages  were  talking,  or  through  a  cleft  in 
the  rock  above,  near  the  strange  rock  Hke  a  man.  We  may 
then  rescue  the  women,  and  make  an  end  of  the  whole 
party." 

This  proposition  was  unanimously  approved  of,  and  the 
hunters  concealed  themselves  more  carefuUy,  awaiting  the 
hour  when  they  were  to  commence  their  march  along  the 
winding  path  toward  their  enemies. 

The  moon  had  risen  some  time  before,  slowly  ascending 
like  a  shield  of  fire  above  the  wild  eastern  ranges,  and  now 
poured  a  flood  of  splendor  upon  the  gigantic  pinnacle  which 
towered  above;  on  the  yawning  chasms  and  glinimering 
masses  of  piled  up  rock:  on  the  gorges  bristhng  with  droop- 
ing evergreens;  and  on  the  river  which  ghttered  in  its  ray» 
like  a  writhing  serpent.  The  great  orb  ihone  tranquilly 
16* 


M2  Fairfax;  OB, 

and  the  yellow  liglit  slept  on  the  weird  scene  as  peac6fQll;f 
as  though  it  were  untenanted  by  mortal — not  the  lurking- 
place  of  deadly  foes  who  would  soon  grapple  in  a  mortal 
struggle. 

At  ten  paces  from  the  rest  of  the  hidden  party,  Georg« 
and  Falconbridge  conversed  in  low  tones  of  their  fears  and 
hopes,  and  all  the  emotions  of  their  hearts.  Long  before, 
indeed  from  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting  almost,  they 
had  become  bosom  friends:  heart  spoke  to  heart:  each  re- 
cognized a  brother:  and  now,  on  the  perilous  border,  in  the 
wild  night,  with  those  whom  they  loved  more  than  life  in 
mortal  danger,  the  bond  of  brotherood  was  drawn  closer 
still,  until  the  two  natures  almost  were  combined  into  one. 
Each  trembled  with  vague  dread  of  the  result  of  the  in- 
tended attack.  Would  they  arrive  in  time?  Had  not  the 
Indians,  even  now,  put  their  captives  to  death  ?  Were  Ber- 
tha Argal  and  Cannie  Powell  still  breathing,  or  had  they 
fallen  victims,  hours  before,  to  the  savage  cruelty  which  had 
slain  young  children  at  the  Ordinary,  and  dismembered  the 
dead  body  of  the  unhappy  IVIr.  Argal  ? 

So  the  two  young  men  passed  the  long  hours  in  shudder- 
ing dread — impatient,  longing,  panting  for  the  contest — 
eager  for  the  signal  which  would  solve  their  doubts  and  end 
their  fears. 

At  last  it  came.  Captain  Wagner  passed  the  word  cau- 
tiously along  the  line,  and  taking  the  head  of  the  party,  set 
forward  on  the  precipitous  and  almost  imperceptible  path 
which  wound  down  the  steep  declivity.  It  was  only  to  ba 
followed  by  careful  observation,  leading,  as  it  did,  beneath 
the  dense  foliage  of  the  evergre  ens,  along  the  edge  of  the 
precipice,  where  the  moon's  rays  scarcely  penetrated — and 
more  than  one  of  the  party.  Minding,  single  file,  down  into 
the  gorge,  had  to  gTasp  the  droox)nig  boughs  to  prevent 
themselves  from  being  hurled  into  the  chasm  beneath. 

At  last  the  bed  of  the  small  stream  was  reached,  and  thi 
body  of  hunters  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  towering  pin* 


THE  MASTEB  OF  QKEENWAT  OOmBT- 


IiAcIe.  This  wonld  have  been  entirely  out  of  the  (jih  «ti  r 
near  the  outer  edge,  which  was,  as  v/e  have  said  a  nhfiv. 
precipice  of  five  hundred  feet,  but  at  the  point  wIik^L  the; 
bad  reached,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  tlie  i)reci})ic€ 
it  was  possible  to  ascend,  though  this  even  w  as  an  iiiidei 
taking  of  great  difficulty.  The  masses  of  rock  in  the  pa^l 
of  the  party  were  huge  and  almost  impassable — the  taii^le^i 
/aderwood  very  nearly  a  complete  barrier — but  the  triaiied 
and  active  hunters  overcame  all  obstacles,  and  slowly  made 
their  way,  preceded  by  Captain  Wagner,  toward  the  sum- 
mit. 

It  was  nearly  daybreak.  Already  faint  streaks  began  to 
api^ear  in  the  eastern  sky,  the  harbingers  of  dawn ;  and  all 
was  more  profoundly  quiet  in  th^  wild  scene  than  even  upon 
the  night  before. 

At  last  the  party  reached  the  top,  and  a  hui'ried  consul- 
tation was  held.  The  result  was  that  an  examination  ol 
che  fissure,  and  the  entrance  to  the  cavern  beneath  the  man's 
bust,  should  be  made,  and  to  the  latter  Captain  Wagner 
addressed  himself.  Falconbridge,  his  second  in  command^ 
repaired  with  a  portion  of  the  hunters  to  the  fissm*e. 

He  soon  rea«hed  it,  and  bidding  the  men  await  iiis  re- 
turn, let  his  body  down  through  the  ya^vning  aperture,  into 
which  the  moon's  rays  plunged,  and  felt  his  feet  base  them- 
Belves  upon  a  jutting  crag  near  the  entrance.  From  this 
abutment,  he  found  no  difficulty  in  picking  his  way,  though 
it  required  great  caution,  into  the  cavern  neai'est  the  sum- 
mit. 

From  this  he  descended,  directed  by  chance  gleams  of 
fire-light^  flaying  upon  the  roof,  to  the  next,  then  to  the 
ftext;  and  so  to  the  cave  in  which  Lightfoot  was  wat'Ch- 
ing  over  the  slumbers  of  Mrs.  Butterton,  Cannie,  an  I  MisJi 
ArgaL 


364 


FAHUPAX;  OB, 


LXIX 

rHE  SON  OF  WAB  EAOLI. 

1(7?^^/  B^ghi  of  the  young  man,  as  we  haye  saidi 

laglitfoot,  who  had  risen  to  his  feet,  with  his 
w^^^  hand  on  his  knife,  uttered  a  low  guttural  excla- 
t&WlK^^^  ination  of  astonishment. 

The  two  persons,  who  represented  so  nobly  the  great 
races  from  which  they  drew  their  blood,  remained  for  some 
moments  motionless,  surveying  each  other  without  speak- 
ing. They  were  strongly  contrasted,  and  yet  singularly 
alike  in  those  subtler  and  less  perceptible  traits  which  un- 
derlie the  mere  outward  appea^^  juce.  There  was  the  same 
fi-ank  gaze,  clear,  penetrating,  anshrinking — the  look  of  the 
eagle  upo]i  the  sun  :  the  same  proud  simplicity  of  attitude  ; 
the  same  erect  carria: '6  of  person.  They  stood  thus,  no 
inapt'  representatives  and  types  of  the  Caucasian  and  the 
Indian — the  civilized  European  and  the  untutored  North 
American — the  court  and  the  trackless  wilderness. 

Their  glance  was  not  one  of  hostility  or  suspicion.  Each 
had  recognized  in  the  other  a  pure  and  noble  soul — ^but  still 
the  inevitable  circumstances  of  their  position  made  them 
use  due  caution.  It  was  not  two  boys  filled  with  chimerical 
ideas  of  human  goodness  and  unwavering  confidence,  who 
stood  thus,  confronting  each  other.  They  were  strong 
men—  with  their  feelings  deeply  aroused — opposed  at  a 
critical  moment,  on  a  critical  occasion. 

Lights  .  .t,  without  removiug  his  hand  from  his  knife,  said 
in  a  low  tone  ; 

'  Why  IS  the  young  pale-face  in  the  heart  of  hi» 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  COUBT.  806 

ralconbridge  pointed  to  Miss  Argal,  and  replied : 
"I  came  to  seek  her." 
"She  is  your  friend?" 
"More  than  my  friend*" 

"  The  young  man  uttered  the  -words  with  such  ^angcroui 
animation  and  distinctness,  that  Lightfoot  raised  his  han# 
quickly,  and  said  in  a  whisper  : 

"Hist!  Beware  how  you  speak  so  loudly.  The  mem» 
bers  of  the  tribe  will  wake  at  the  noise,  and  your  blood  will 
flow." 

"I  care  not,"  returned  Falconbridge,  who  gazed  with 
flushed  cheeks  at  Miss  Argal  as  she  slumbered  serenely,  a 
happy  smile  playing  fitfully  upon  her  lips ;  "  so  she  is  saved 
from  the  diaboHcal  cruelty  of  these  savage  beasts,  I  count 
my  own  life  as  nothing." 

The  words  affected  Lightfoot  like  a  blow.  His  head  rose 
haughtily,  and  he  fixed  upon  Falconbridge  one  of  those 
burning  glances  which  seem  to  measure  the  foe — as  a  tiger 
measures  the  enemy  upon  whom  he  is  about  to  spring. 
But  the  emotion  of  rage  was  plainly  instinctive.  It  did  not 
last.  The  expression  of  menace  disappeared  almost  as 
quickly  as  it  came,  and  a  deep  sadness  fell  Hke  the  shadow 
of  a  cloud  on  the  flashing  eyes  and  proud  Up.  With  droop- 
ing head,  the  Indian  murmured  : 

"  Be  silent  1  I  am  the  son  of  War  Eagle,  and  in  otheif 
days  the  blood  of  him  who  uttered  such  words  would  have 
run  out  of  his  heart !  But  my  heart  is  changed.  Lightfoot 
no  longer  stril/,es  in  this  quarrel.  His  heart  says,  '  Yes,  my 
tribe  in  cmo?,  fm  bloody  * — but  he  is  still  a  Catawba,  a  chief. 
Let  the  young  pale-face  respect  the  feelings  of  a  chief." 

The  noble  voice  went  to  the  heart  of  Fa^^conbridge.  Hia 
cheeks  reddened  with  impulsive  shame,  at  thus  wounding, 
onnecessariiy,  the  feelings  of  his  companion.  He  stretched 
out  his  hand,  and  said,  frankly  : 

"  I  would  beg  forgiveness — I  meant  not  to  hurt  you,  son 
^  War  Eagle.   Let  us  speak  not  as  foes,  but  as  brothers 


806 


FAIRFAX;  OB, 


for  I  know,  I  feel,  that  you  are  here  as  the  protector  of 
women  and  children.    I  would  know  that  even  if  one  of 
those  children  were  not  this  one  before  mb," 
And  he  pointed  to  Cannie. 

The  Indian  gravely  took  the  proffered  hand,  and  then 
said  : 

"Does  the  young  pale-face  come  to  rescue  the  young 
woman  ?" 
"Yes/* 

"  Does  he  come  alone  ?" 

And  the  penetrating  eyes  of  the  Indian  chief  looked  full 
into  the  eyes  of  his  companion.  Falconbridge  replied,  with 
ready  presence  of  mind,  that  he  alone  had  made  his  way  to 
the  cavern.  He  felt  instinctively  that  in  this  critical  mo- 
ment, when  the  aid  of  Lightfoot  was  of  inestimable  value, 
it  would  be  wholly  unnecessary  and  equally  cruel  to  present 
to  him  the  tragic  alternative  of  acting  with  his  own  tribe 
against  the  whites,  or  with  his  adopted  people  against  the 
Indians.    He  evaded  thus  the  question,  and  added  quickly  : 

"What  plan  of  escape  have  you  devised?" 

Lightfoot,  in  low,  rapid  tones^  explained  everything,  and 
added: 

"  The  hour  has  nearly  arrived.  The  band  are  sleeping — 
I  will  go  and  reconnoitre.  But  before  the  son  of  War  Eagle 
goes,  let  him  say  to  the  young  pale  face  that  his  tribe  are 
not  wholly  fierce  and  cruel — they  are  very  noble  often, 
though  their  eyes  are  different  from  the  eyes  of  th©  whiteii 
The  Good  Spirit  made  the  world  of  land  and  water,  and  val- 
ley and  mountain — ^he  traced  out  the  rivers,  and  rolled 
round  the  seasons,  through  the  hours  of  unremembered 
years,  for  all  the  tribes  of  aU  the  mighty  nations.  He  gave 
to  one  of  these  great  tribes,  the  whites,  another  land — to  us 
he  gave  the  prairies  blooming  with  a  hundred  flowers — the 
great  wide  forests — the  pathless  lakes-  and  lofty  mountaina 
We  lived  in  the  prairies,  and  upon  the  mountains — we  pad- 
dled on  the  lakea   The  Evil  Spirit  often  made  us  fight  witl 


THX  UABTSSB  OV  GBSICKWAY  COUKT.  361 


BBiA  other;  bni  not  always.  Then  came  the  pale-fuoes,  an3 
they  dyed  the  soil  with  the  blood  of  braves.  Wherever  an 
Indian  met  a  white,  he  met  an  enemy — it  was  life  or  death. 
This  has  made  all  the  tribes  so  bloody — this  makes  the  Evil 
Spirit  laugh,  and  triumph.  The  son  of  War  Eagle  felt  his 
heart  turn  cold  within  him — he  wandered  from  his  tribe — 
one  day  a  prophet  of  the  whites  spoke  to  him  of  the  Son  of 
the  Great  Spirit,  and  he  listened.  Then  he  left  his  people, 
and  became  a  believer.  To-day  he  would  not  bear  his  knife 
against  either — ^he  would  turn  away,  and  bury  his  sufferings 
in  silence.  If  the  knife  strikes  him,  let  it  strike—he  will 
die  a  Christian  chief  of  the  Catawbas  I" 

"With  these  words,  th^  young  Indian  left  the  cavern,  and 
noiselessly  descending  the  winding  stair  to  the  cave  be- 
neath, disappeared  from  the  eyes  of  his  companion.  Fal- 
oonbridge  looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  then  hastily  going 
to  Miss  Argal's  side,  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm. 

The  young  lady  opened  her  eyes,  and  gave  a  quick  start, 
as  she  saw  Falconbridge.  Then  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  she  murmured  with  burning  blushes. 

''Do  not  speak  to  me — I  am  not  worthy." 


868 


fAIBFAX;  OB. 


CHAPTER  LXX. 

TH.E  CONFESSION. 

ALCONBRIDGE    displayed  an  emotion  ever 

greater  than  that  of  his  companion.  His  face 
flushed  with  passionate  emotion,  and  his  breast 
heaved,  as  he  gazed  upon  the  woman  whom  he 
loved,  even  more  than  ever  it  seemed  to  him,  now  that  she 
was  helpless  and  surrounded  by  bloody  enemies. 

The  nature  of  this  man  was  one  of  those  which  remem- 
bers the  good  and  forgets  the  bad.  He  no  longer  recalled 
the  terrible  wrong  which  the  young  lady  had  inflicted  upon 
him — ^he  no  longer  thought  of  her  as  the  woman  who  had 
trifled  with  him,  broken  his  heart,  and  laughed  in  his  face 
when  he  suffered.  She  was  only  the  poor  stiicken  girl 
whose  will  and  heart  were  diseased  by  an  awfnl  visitation 
of  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  universe — he  thought  of  her, 
as  »he  struggled  in  her  father's  arms  that  day,  and  cried, 
"  7  .oved  him  only — as  she  looked  when  she  came  with 
streaming  eyes,  and  broken  accents,  and  prayers  for  pardon^ 
to  return  his  mother's  ring.  As  he  ooked  at  her  now,  and 
heard  her  murmur,  "Do  not  speak  to  me — I  am  not  worthy/* 
his  heart  was  filled  with  an  inexpressible  love  and  pity.** 

Of  the  feelings  of  the  young  lady  herself,  it  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  speak.  The  change  which  had  taken  place  in 
her  whole  being  has  been  described — we  have  rapidly 
touched  upon,  with  a  sort  of  fear,  at  undertaking  such  a 
picture,  the  scene  when  another  light  than  that  of  earth  il- 
luminated the  gioom}^  depths  of  her  soul: — and  we  know 
thus  what  she  felt  in  looking  upon  the  victim  of  her  untruth 
and  cruelty. 

She  scarcely  dared  to  meet  his  eyes,  and  turned  awaj 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  COUBH  86J) 


corering  her  blushes  of  shame,  as  we  have  said,  with  hei 
hands.  For  more  than  a  minute  Falconbridge  did  not  speak 
— emotion  had  overcome  him.  Then  he  regained  his  self- 
possession^  and  said: 

"Do  you  think  that  I  remember  the  past,  with  bitternesef 
No,  I  do  not.  Look  up,  it  is  a  faithful,  dovoted  friend  who 
speaks  to  you.'* 

"  How  can  I  ?"  murmured  the  young  lady,  removing  hes 
hands  from  her  face,  but  averting  her  head;  "I  am  fiUei 
with  such  shame,  sir,  that  it  almost  kills  me !" 

"  Do  not  speak  thus  I    Do  not  even  refer  to  the  past  I** 

"  I  must,'*  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  glancing  with  unutter- 
able sadness  at  him,  and  then  looking  away  again,  "  I  must, 
Mr.  Falconbridge,  for  I  have  acted  toward  you  in  so  base  a 
manner,  that  it  almost  breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  it.  But 
do  not  think  too  cruelly  of  me !  One  of  my  bitterest  pangs, 
even  here  in  this  gloomy  place,  where  I  have  so  much  else 
to  make  me  miserable,  is  the  recollection  of  my  dishonorable 
conduct  toward  yoursel£  Do  not  interrupt  sir,''  she  said, 
as  he  was  about  to  speak,  and  gazing  now  with  sorrowful 
and  shrinking  modesty  into  hie  face;  do  not  stop  me,  Mr. 
Falconbridge.  You  know  I  am  a  poor  insane  creature,  and 
I  know  not  whether  I  shaU  have  the  mind  or  memory  to 
speak  as  I  vrish  to  speak  to  you,  if  I  do  not  go  on  now.  I 
say,  that  I  have  been  guilty  of  dishonor  to  you,  and  I  mtist 
confess  it  all,  before  I  can  feel  that  you  have  forgiven  it— I 
do  not  know  if  you  can.  Tou  came  to  the  Valley,  and  from 
our  first  meeting  I  determined  to  engage  your  affection,  that 
I  and  my  father  might  be  compelled  to  live  no  longer  in  this 
solitude.  I  practiced  upon  you  those  wiles  which  it  is  the 
sad  misfortune  of  woman  to  possess — I  succeeded  in  my 
aim — and  then  I  deceived  you,  basely,  dishonorably,  shame- 
fuUyr 

Her  face  was  crimson  as  she  spoke.  The  effort  which  she 
made  in  thus  speaking,  was  plainly  immense,  passioiiai^ 
craeL 


470 


FAIBFAX;  OB) 


met  Lord  Fairfax/*  she  went  on,  "  md  I  broke  mj  faith 

with  you — I  treated  you  as  no  lady  can  treat  a  gentleman 
without  degrading  herself;  I  sneered  at  you  when  you  com- 
plained; turned  my  back  when  you  remonstrated;  when 
you  begged  me  with  that  deep  love  which  should  have  been 
my  pride,  and  honor,  to  be  true  to  my  plighted  word,  I  laughed 
in  your  face.  Mi\  Palconbridge !"  said  the  young  lady  with 
quivering  lips  and  hands  which  trembled  so  much  that  they 
were  almost  unable  to  put  back  the  mass  of  raven  curUl 
which  fell  over  her  face,  "  Mr.  ralconbridge,  it  almost  kiila 
me  to  utter  these  words ! — it  makes  me  sick  at  heart ! — am 
so  humiliated  and  degraded  in  my  own  eyes,  that  I  could 
sink  through  the  earth  for  shame!  But  I  must  speak  I 
Yes,  sir  I  behaved  toward  the  most  honorable  and  noble 
gentleman  I've  ever  known  in  a  manner  which  I  can  scarcely 
believe  as  I  think  of  it — I  repeat  it,  with  base,  base  dis- 
honor 1 — and  on  my  knees  I  beg,  I  pray  your  forgiveness  I 
Stop,  Mr.  Falconbridge  I — do  not  speak — ^let  me  add  what  I 
know  you  are  thinking  at  this  moment — let  me  tell  yoa  my 
only  excuse  for  this  terrible  conduct.  But  I  need  not — 
see  in  your  eyes  that  you  have  recalled  it.  Oh,  yes,  sirl 
that  is  my  sole  excuse — it  is  something,  is  it  not,  sir?  I 
was  only  a  poor  miserable  creature — ^with  my  head  whirling, 
my  mind  unsound — my  heart  depraved  and  awfully  wicked ! 
I  was  not  always  so,  sir!  Once  I  was  true  and  pure — 
mamma  taught  me  to  be  good  and  tender — ^but  x  could  nol 
remain  so !  Against  my  better  nature  I  acted  with  awful  de- 
ception— I  wounded  you,  and  made  you  suffer  without  pity  I 
"-but — ^but,  through  it  all — can  scarcely  find  strength  to 
confess  it,  for  you  may  misunderstand  me — it  escaped  me, 
papa  says,  in  that  mad  attack  which  you  witnessed — ^I— 
loved  you, — ^Edmund! — as  you  -soved  me- -with  my  whole, 
entire  heart  1 — ^you  only !  Do  not  think  me  umnaidenly  !** 
she  sobbed,  turning  away,  and  blushing  to  the  roots  of  her 
hair;  ''do  not  think  that  I  wish  you  to  return  to  met  Xhai 


'  THE  MASTEE  OP  GREEKWAY  COURT.  '  371 

can  never  be,  i  E  you  even  desired  it !  We  must  part  forever, 
after  this  terrible  night !  We  can  never  meet  more,  but  I 
juu  changed,  and  I  can  pray  for  you — I  can  pray  to  God  tc 
forgive  me  my  great  sin — as  I  pray  you  humbly  to  do  so — 
you,  whom  I  have  wronged  so  terribly  and  basely!" 

Slie  stoppei,  sobbing  convulsively, — overcome  by  the  wo- 
ful  confession,  so  repugnant  to  a  woman:  shaken  by  a  depth 
and  poignancy  of  shame  and  anguish  which  no  words  can  de- 
scribe. 

And  Falconbridge  was  as  i:)assionately  moved  as  herself, 
Her  words  had  struck  him  like  sharp  axTows,  recalling  as  they 
did  aU  his  suffering,  his  long  agony,  his  despair.  This  wu^J 
not  the  dominant  feeling  in  the  breast  of  the  young  man, 
however.  An  imutterable  compassion  and  tenderness  made 
his  heart  throb.  His  frame  trembled,  and  he  vainly  essayed 
to  speak.  In  a  few  moments,  however,  he  had  mastered  his 
agitation,  and  had  opened  his  hps,  when  suddenly  Lightfoot 
stood  beside  them. 

"  Come  1 — there  is  no  moment  to  lose  1"  said  the  Indian 
in  a  low,  quick  v^ice,  "  the  sentinel  is  asleep,  and  the  day  is 
DreakingT* 

The  Indian  cautiously  awoke  Mrs.  Buttertonand  Cannie 
as  he  spoke — and  then  silently  rose  from  their  couches. 
Falconbridge  had  only  time  to  bend  over  Miss  Argal,  to  press 
her  hand  to  his  lips  and  say  in  a  deep  broken  voice : 

''I  forgive  you  from  my  heart!  May  God  forgive  all  thy 
sins  as  completely!" 


Sn  iJJKtAX  ;  Oft. 


LXXL 

THE  FLiaHT« 

HE  three  women  quickly  made  iheir  prepaid- 
tioiis.  and  signified  their  readineflfe  io  ll/ilow  theijf 
guides. 

Lightfoot  went  in  front,  cautioning  the  memo 
bers  of  the  party,  in  a  low  tone,  to  make  nonoiso;  andthua 
gliding  like  shadows,  they  ascended  the  first  flight  of  steps, 
leading  to  the  next  cavern  above. 

There,  Lightfoot  paused  a  moment  to  listen.  His  quick 
ear  seemed  to  have  caught  some  shght  sound  of  hostile  im- 
port. Bending  his  head,  like  a  crouching  wild  animal,  his 
keen  eyes  plunged  into  the  haLf-darknees,  his  acute  ears 
strove  to  discern  the  repetition  of  the  noise.  It  seemed  to 
have  existed  only  in  his  imagination;  and  with  a  sUent 
movement  ol  the  hand,  he  motioned  to  the  party  to  fol- 
low. 

The  ascent  became  steeper  and  more  difficult.  In  more 
than  one  place  the  steps  of  the  huge  staircase  were  wanting, 
and  the  women  had  to  be  lifted  in  the  arms  of  their  compan- 
ions. Falconbridge  and  Lightfoot,  it  may  easily  be  b6 
tieved,  experienct^d  singular  emotien  as  the  forms  of  those 
whom  they  loved  were  thus  clasped  in  their  arms,  resting 
upon  their  hearts.  The  young  Indian  was  stiU  agitated  by 
the  cruel  scene  of  his  disappointment  in  the  cavern:  his  face 
glowed  as  he  hfted  the  girl,  and  with  all  the  respect  and 
tenderness  of  a  brother,  placed  her  safely  upon  the  ledge 
above.  And  if -such  an  emotion  invaded  the  breast  of  Light- 
footy  what  a  rush  of  painful  delight  must  Falconbhdgo  have 


THB  ItASTEB  Oif  GBEiil^WAi:  OOUBTL  878 

Mt,  as  MSss  Argal's  clieek  nearly  touched  his  cwn,  as  het 
dark  curls  brushed  against  his  bosom ! 

But  it  was  no  time  for  reflection — ^no  time  to  indulge 
tiiese  inevitable  emotions  of  the  youthful  heart.  The  mo- 
ments rushed  onward,  winged  with  terrible  peril — all  was  at 
•take;  the  issues  of  life  and  death  must  soon  be  decided. 

The  party  hurried  onward  as  rapidly  as  the  broken  and 
fagged  pathway  would  permit.  They  had  ascended  thus 
very  nearly  to  the  entrance,  and  were  mounting  the  last  pre- 
cipitous staircase  leading  to  the  fissure  in  the  pavement 
above,  beyond  which  lay  hope,  freedom,  life.  Lightfoot 
again  raised  Caxinie,  and  then  assisted  Mrs.  Butterlon  to 
ascend.  Falconbridge  held  out  his  arms  forlVIiss  Ai^gal,  and 
she  obeyed  his  gesture. 

The  young  man  and  the  girl  were  thus  clasped,  as  it  were 
in  each  other's  embrace,  when  a  roar  like  that  of  a  furious 
wild  beast  was  heard,  and  followed  by  tYv^enty  Indians,  the 
Half-breed  rushed  up  the  staircase.  He  had  gone  to  seek 
Miss  Algal,  had  discovered  the  escape  of  the  three  women, 
and  hastily  calling  to  his  companions,  followed  them. 

He  had  arrived  just  in  time  to  see  Miss  Argal  clasped  to 
the  bosom  of  Falconbridge,  and  the  sight  aroused  in  hin: 
the  furious  devU  of  blood  and  death.  By  a  superhuman 
bound  he  reached  the  plateau  beneath  the  fissure,  just  as  the 
three  women  were  thrust  upward  by  their  companions — ^but 
in  spite  of  his  reckless  daring  he  recoiled. 

Falconbridge  had  seized  a  huge  mass  of  rock,  and  lifting 
it  above  his  head,  hurled  it  downward.  The  Half-breed 
avoided  it  by  a  movement  to  one  side  as  rapid  as  Ughtniag, 
and  it  rebounded  from  the  jagged  floor,  burst  into  fragments, 
and  sent  throughout  the  gloomy  caverns  a  sombre  roar, 
echoing  and  rebellowing  from  side  to  side. 

Lightfoot  and  Falconbridge  took  instant  advantage  of  the 
diversion,  and  passing  through  the  opening,  found  them- 
selves in  the  air  abrwe,  in  the  midst  of  the  painty  of  hunteri 
who  were  rushing  to  their  assistance. 


FiiBPAX;  OB, 


ITie  Xndians  appeared  at  the  fissure,  fchoir  ted  faces  di# 
tortcd  v/ith  rage  and  ferocity — above  all,  the  hideous  coun- 
fcenance  of  the  Half-Breed,  which  resembled  that  of  some 
horrible  demon,  wild  with  rage  and  disappointment.  But 
at  sight  of  the  hunters  armed  to  the  teeth,  with  levelled 
rifles,  the  heads  disappeared,  amid  cries  of  fury  and  fear. 
A  volley  fi^om  the  whites  followed,  and  a  howl  frcm  the  cav- 
ern replied  to  it.  More  than  one  of  the  savages  had  been 
killed  by  the  unerring  balls. 

Then  a  new  phenomenon  appeared.  At  the  moment  when 
the  hunters  were  hastily  reloading  their  pieces,  a  dense 
cloud  of  lurid  smoke  rose  slowly  through  the  fissure,  and  as- 
cended in  the  first  rays  of  morning.  Captain  Wagner's 
quick  eye  had  discerned,  from  his  position  at  the  mouth  of 
the  cavern,  the  escape  of  the  captives — he  had  quickly 
heaped  together  vast  quantities  of  dry  boughs — these  had 
been  set  on  fire,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  thick  smoke  his  men 
advanced  to  the  attack. 

The  smoke  swept  upward  toward  the  more  elevated  cav- 
ern in  which  the  entire  tribe,  by  this  time,  were  assembled. 
Thus  the  captives  huddled  together  upon  the  lower  floor 
were  unhaimed.  Their  bonds  were  quickly  cut,  and  the 
women  escaped — the  men  seized  arms  from  the  floor  and 
joined  the  whites. 

At  the  head  of  his  party,  thus  swollen  in  numbers,  Cap- 
tain Longknife  rushed  up  the  staircase  of  the  cavern,  firing 
his  pistols.  Volleys  from  the  hunters  behind  him  were  add- 
ed— and  very  soon  they  had  arrived  within  sight  of  the  fis- 
«ure. 

The  huge  borderer  presented  an  appearance  almost  fright- 
ful. His  shaggy  black  hair  and  beard  were  singed  by  the 
flames — his  bulky  form  looked  gigantic  amid  the  clouds  ol 
smoke — with  his  immense  sabre  whirled  above  his  head,  he 
struck  right  and  left  with  a  fury  which  made  him  resemble 
•ome  mad  giant  of  the  old  mythology. 

More  than  once  the  cry  ui    Longknife!  Longknife  T  is- 


THE  mffrm  of  oeeenwat  oottbt. 


midd  from  the  terrified  savages,  who  seemed  to  regard  him 
with  superstitious  awe  and  horror.  They  recoiled  before 
him,  and  crowded  tumultuouslj  toward  the  fissure.  At  every 
moment  the  advancing  hunters  stumbled  over  dead  bodies 
— they  breathed  heavily  in  the  lurid  smoke:  but  with  wild 
shouts  and  discharges  of  fire-arms  rushed  upward. 

The  black  fissure  then  disgorged  before  the  eyes  of  tha 
party  above,  a  furious  crowd  of  savages.  Their  enendei 
followed,  and  in  an  instant  the  final  struggle  commenced 
upon  the  plateau  of  the  gigantic  pinnacle,  which  now  stona 
brightly  in  the  light  of  day. 


•76 


FAIRFAX  4«| 


Lxxn. 

TBS  BORDERER  AND  THE  HALF-BBEED. 

HE  struggle  was  fuiious,  horrible,  mortal. 

All  the  most  intense  and  acrid  passions,  which 
agitate  the  human  soul,  were  spurred  to  wild 
and  incredible  activity,  and  the  combatants  seemed 
to  have  made  up  their  minds  to  conquer  or  die,  without 
thought  of  retreat  or  flight. 

The  enemies  were  nearly  a  perfect  match.  It  is  true,  that 
the  Indians  exceeded  the  hunters  in  numerical  strength, 
but  the  superiority  of  the  arms  used  by  the  latter  gave  them 
a  decided  advantage,  and  more  than  made  up  for  the  in- 
equality of  numbers.  The  area  upon  which  they  contended 
^ — ^the  summit  of  the  dizzy  precipice — was  limited,  and  thus 
the  whites  fought  under  favorable  cii'cumstancerS,  for  they 
could  not  easily  be  surrounded. 

Captain  Wagner  led  the  party  of  hunters:  and  beside 
him  Falconbridge  advanced  into  the  press,  dealing  such 
blows  with  his  sword  that  every  opponent  went  down  before 
him.  The  two  men  seemed  possessed  with  the  battle  ardor 
in  its  fuUest  extent — that  fury  of  the  soul  which  animates 
the  blood  of  men,  as  animal  ferocity  does  the  blood  oi 
beasts,  turning  the  mildest  human  beings  into  wolves  and 
tigers.  Captain  Wagner  did  not  lose  his  presence  of  mind, 
however.  He  led  his  men  with  the  reckless  courage  of  on€ 
who  commands  a  forlorn  hope;  but  with  the  cool  general- 
ihip,  also,  of  a  veteran  campaigner.  He  advanced,  step  by 
•tep,  beating  down  every  opponent — delivering  his  ordew 
bi  a  kmd,  strident  tone,  which  rose  above  tli«  oproar — aad 


THE  MASTEB  OF  GBEKKWAY  OOUBT.  877 


toibracing,  eyen  at  the  instant  when  he  gave  his  blows,  the 
entire  field  of  action  at  a  glance. 

FalcoBbridge  was  beside  him — and  beside  Falconbridge 
wasf  George,  The  youth  was  thoroughly  aroused.  Hia 
habitual  calmness  and  amiabihty  had  completely  difih 
Uppeared.  His  head  was  tossed  back  with  fearless  prid% 
and  in  his  heaving  bosom,  his  burning  eyes,  his  lips  se^ 
dose  together,  might  have  been  seen  the  evidences  of  a  na« 
ture  of  immense  depth  and  strength — of  dauntless  will — oi 
inflexible  hardihood  and  determination.  There  was  Ho 
longer  anything  of  the  boy  about  him— he  was  the  fuU- 
armed  warrior,  rejoicing  in  the  deadly  contest.  His  sword 
descended  with  unerring  precision  upon  the  writhing  pha- 
lanx of  Indian  warriors,  and  he  was  beside  Falconbridge 
wherever  he  advanced. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  mad  struggle,  that  aU  at  once, 
George  heard  a  woman  scream — and  this  scream  he  recog- 
nized as  issuing  from  the  lips  of  Cannie.  It  was  so  wild 
and  piercing,  so  filled  with  distress  and  anguish,  that  the 
yoimg  man's  heart  turned  cold  with  apprehension.  With  a 
hurried  assurance  to  Falconbridge  that  he  would  return  in 
an  instant,  George  threw  himself  backward,  and  clearing  at 
a  single  bound,  two  or  three  dead  bodies,  rushed  in  the 
direction  of  the  spot  from  which  he  had  heard  the  cry  oi 
distress. 

A  few  words  will  explain  it. 

Cannie,  Mrs.  Butterton,  and  Miss  Argal,  had  been  hastily 
conducted  to  the  rear  of  a  large  mass  of  rock,  on  the  east- 
em  edge  of  the  plateau,  not  far  from  the  curious  granite 
bust,  in  order  to  screen  them  from  the  balls  of  the  savages 
a  large  portion  of  whom  carried  rifles  and  pistols,  procured 
from  the  dwellings  which  they  had  plundered  on  their 
march.  A  cleft  in  the  rock  afforded  a  favorable  hiding- 
place,  and  in  this  cleft,  accordingly,  the  three  women 
erouched,  listening  with  terror,  to  the  noises  of  the  desper- 
irta  eonlliot  Benda  ihem  Idghtfoot  leaned,  with  folded 


878 


FAIRFAX;  OK, 


arms^  depressed  head,  and  heaying  bosom,  against  tba 
rock.  A  terrible  struggle  was  going  on  in  his  breast.  AB 
the  old  instincts  of  the  savage  chieftain  were  aroused  with- 
in him,  by  the  din  of  the  combat — ^by  the  clashing  weapons, 
the  discharge  of  fire-arms,  the  yells  and  shouts,  as  the  ene- 
mies closed  in  the  mortal  contest.  His  limbs  trembled — a 
ghiidder  passed  thrcugh  his  frame — and  his  glowing  eyes 
resembled  balls  of  fire.  But  those  eyes  were  not  directed 
toward  the  place  of  combat — ^his  nervous  fingers  did  not 
clutch  the  weapon  at  his  girdle.  He  could  take  no  part 
against  either  of  the  bands,  for  neither  was  his  foe.  He  was 
a  Catawba,  it  is  true,  but  he  was  also  a  friend  of  the  whites 
— a  Christian;  and  to  terminate  any  indecision  which  he 
felt,  came  the  thought  that  his  presence  was  necessary  to 
the  safety  of  Cannie. 

Thus  he  curbed  the  wild  battle  instinct  raging  in  his 
breast — suppressed  the  tremor  which  agitated  his  frame  ; 
his  feet  rooted  themselves  in  their  place,  and  with  folded 
amis  he  awaited  the  end  of  the  contest. 

The  three  women  were  less  capable  of  controlling  their 
feelings.  They  Ustened  with  terror  to  the  shouts  and  dis- 
chfc.rges.  Every  rifle  shot,  to  their  excited  imaginations, 
rung  the  death-knell  of  the  person  for  whom  they  felt  the 
deepest  sohcitude.  Above  all,  Cannie  thought  of  George, 
and  the  peril  in  which  he  must  be,  with  blanched  cheeks, 
and  eyes  full  of  wild  anguish.  She  saw  him  pale  and  bleed- 
ing, beneath  the  tramphng  feet — ^her  imagination  conjured 
up,  for  itself,  a  horrible  spectacle — and  unable  longer  to 
bear  the  terrible  suspense,  she  rose  to  her  feet,  passed 
hastily  by  Lightfoot,  and  going  to  the  edge  of  the  rock, 
looked  toward  the  combatp.nts. 

As  she  reached  the  point,  she  suddenly  recoiled  with  that 
cry  of  terror  which  George  had  heard  and  obeyed. 

An  Indian,  with  a  hideous  scovi'l  upon  his  features,  met 
her  face  to  face,  and  raised  above  her  head  a  long,  glitter- 
ing knife,  which  descended  like  a  flash  of  lightning  toward 
her  boMun. 


THK  MASTEB  OF  GREENWAY  OOtTBT. 


879 


But  the  weapon  did  not  bury  itself  in  her  heart  It 
found  another  sheath.  Lightfoot  had  seen  her  peril — hia 
face  flushed  crimson — and  arriving  at  the  spot,  with  a  sin- 
gle bound,  he  had  thrown  himself  between  the  girl  and  the 
descending  knife. 

It  entered  his  bosom,  and  buried  itself  to  the  very  hilL 

The  savage  recognized  his  brother  warrior,  and  chief,  too 
late,  and  uttering  a  howl  of  terror  at  his  action,  disap- 
peared in  the  direction  of  the  main  contest,  at  the  moment 
when  George  reached  the  side  of  the  girL 

Cannie  had  thrown  her  arms  wildly  around  the  young 
Indian,  vainly  endeavoring  to  sustain  him  from  falUng. 
Her  strength  was  unequal  to  the  task,  however;  Lightfoot 
tottered  faintly,  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  extending 
his  arms,  fell  backward,  dragging  the  girl  with  him,  to  the 
earth. 

George  hastened  to  their  assistance,  but  he  had  come  too 
late.  The  weapon  had  evidently  inflicted  a  mortal  wound. 
Almost  faiQtiQg  at  the  awful  sight,  at  the  pale,  calm  face, 
and  half -closed  eyes  of  the  d^ing  man,  Cannie  supported 
his  form  in  her  arms,  and  looked  up  at  George  with  an  ex- 
pression in  her  eyes  which  haunted  him  to  the  day  of  his 
death.  There  was  in  it  such  a  depth  of  anguish,  a  tender- 
ness so  profound  and  passionate,  thai  the  young  man  felt 
tiis  cheeks  flush  in  unison  with  the  girl's  emotion,  and  hia 
pulses  throb. 

Cannie  spoke  to  the  dying  man  in  quick,  hun-ied  tone«j 
which  were  scarcely  recognizable.  She  bedewed  his  fore- 
head with  her  tears — besought  him  to  speak  to  her — and 
used  every  means  to  arouse  him,  and  recall  him  to  con- 
sciousness. Miss  Argal  and  Mrs.  Butterton  hastened  to  her 
assistance — and  all  three  of  them  chafed  his  brow  and 
hands.  It  was  of  no  avail — the  young  Indian  exhibited  no 
eigjos  of  life  beyond  a  faint  movement  of  the  chest — and 
fleorgesaw,  with  inexpressible  anguish,  that  his  friend  waa 
dyifig,   As  he  gazed  ftt  the  serene  face,  drooping  langaidjj 


880 


FAIBFAX;  0B| 


toward  the  bare  shoulder,  at  the  eyes  yeiled  by  their  long 
black  lashes,  at  the  slowly  heaving  bosom,  which,  at  every 
puleation,  forced  a  few  drops  of  the  Indian's  life-blood 
through  the  wound,  the  young  man's  throat  seemed  to 
©hoke  with  tears,  and  a  groan  issued  from  his  lips. 

But  it  was  no  time  to  indulge  in  regrets.  The  combat  in 
which  his  friends  were  engaged,  began  to  roar  more  furi- 
ously than  before.  Tlie  cries  of  his  companions  recalled 
him  to  the  contest;  and  at  the  moment  when  he  roused 
himself  to  a  consciousness  of  his  duty,  these  shouts  were 
redoubled,  and  repUed  to  from  the  slope,  by  which  the  peak 
was  reached. 

A  quick  glance  in  the  direction  of  these  latter  cries,  re- 
vealed their  origin.  At  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
Lord  Fairfax,  who  had  found  the  trail  of  the  hunters,  was 
seen  sweeping  onward  toward  the  pinnacle,  followed  by 
twenty  mounted  men,  who  plunged  their  spurs  into  their 
foaming  animals,  and  rushed  upward,  to  the  relief  of  their 
friends.  The  sight  banished  completely  the  softer  emotion 
which  George  had  experienced.  His  face  flushed  again  with 
the  animal  instinct  of  war — and  hastily  stooping,  he  raised 
the  languid  body  of  Lightfoot  in  his  arms,  and  bore  it  to 
the  cleft  in  the  rock,  where  the  women  could  minister  to 
him,  if  he  revived,  without  danger  from  the  bullets  of  the 
enemy. 

He  then  bade  them,  in  humed  accents,  keep  close  within 
their  place  of  concealment;  and  in  the  midst  of  a  hundred 
frantic  shouts,  hastened  back  to  the  scene  of  contest. 

The  Indians^  in  his  absence,  had  been  slowly  driven  back, 
rtep  by  step,  and  were  beginning  to  revolve  the  propriety 
of  flight,  when  they  heard  the  cries  of  the  party  coming  up 
the  mountain.  Ac  the  same  moment  another  incident  took 
place,  which  completed  their  despair,  depriving  them  of  all 
"heart  of  hope 

Captain  Wagner,  as  we  have  said,  plunged,  at  the  head  oi 
his  men  into  the  very  centre  of  the  savages,  and  with  bis 


THS  IfASTSB  OF  ORBElfWAY  OOUSH  381 


sabre^  of  immense  weight  and  length  of  blade,  hewed  down 
every  opponent  who  stood  in  his  path.  Breathing  hoarsely, 
dealing  gigantic  blows  with  a  ferocity  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  pjid  shakiag  from  him,  so  to  speak,  as  a  bear  shakefl 
off  the  dogs,  the  most  powerful  warriors  who  assailed  him, 
he  had  left  behind  him  a  long  train  of  dead  or  dying,  who 
had  bit  the  dust  beneath  his  arm.  He  was  destined,  how* 
ever,  to  find  a  foeman  worthy  of  his  steel.  This  was  the 
powerful  Half-breed,  who  had  hitherto  fought  in  another 
part  of  the  press,  but  who  now  advanced  toward  /;he  sol- 
dier, uplifting,  with  both  hands,  a  huge  axe,  which  he  had 
seized  from  a  pile  of  stolen  utensils  in  the  cavern. 

The  countenance  of  the  Half-breed  resembled,  at  this 
moment,  the  mask  of  a  fiend,  or  rather  the  veritable  physi- 
ognomy of  a  demon  incarnate,  let  loose  upon  the  material 
earth.  His  eyes  were  blood-shot,  and  burned  with  a  lurid 
lustre,  suggestive  of  blood  and  death.  His  hideous  mouth 
was  distorted  into  a  sneer,  which  rendered  it  a  thousand 
times  more  repulsive  ;  on  his  broad  chest,  and  enormous 
HXU^A,  the  muscles  stood  out  like  knots,  or  excrescences. 

He  advanced  straight  upon  Captain  Wagner,  and  aimed 
a  terrible  blow  at  his  head — a  blow  which  would  have  felled 
the  most  powerful  ox.  The  soldier  parried  it  with  hia 
sword,  but  the  result  was  unhappy  for  him.  The  sabre 
yielded  to  the  immense  stroke,  and  snapped  within  six 
inches  of  the  hilt. 

The  Half-breed  uttered  a  howl  of  triumph,  and  throwing 
hds  chest  backward,  whirled  the  axe  with  both  hands,  and  all 
his  strength,  above  his  head,  delivering  the  blow  with  the 
full  swing  of  the  deadly  weapon. 

But  he  had  met  an  enemy  as  wary  and  self-possessed  as 
bimself.  The  axe  did  not  descend.  With  a  boimd  of  as- 
tonishing rapidity,  Wagner  leaped  upon  the  Half-breed,  and 
seized  him  by  the  wrist  and  throat.  The  axe  was  no  longer 
of  any  use  to  him — the  grasp  upon  his  throat  required  the 
ase  of  his  hands — with  another  howl,  more  furious  than  the 
forTv>-'«  ^T--  novas^e  dropped  the  weapon  and  clutched  hist 


882 


FAIRFAX  OB, 


Then  commenced  a  struggle  awful  for  its  ferocity  and  tliQ 
mortal  determination  of  the  combatants.  It  was  a  contest  foi 
life  or  death,  and  each  felt  that  the  resultmust  be  doubtful 
Both  were  men  of  immense  physical  strength — both  arouhse  J 
to  the  last  fury  of  passionate  hatred;  neither  gained,  at  firsts 
any  advantage.  The  superior  stature  of  Captain  Wagner 
counted  in  his  favor;  but  the  deformed  Half-breed  had  trained 
his  huge  muscles,  by  constant  exercise,  until  they  were  as  hard 
and  elastic  as  steel;  and  this  more  than  balanced  his  want  of 
height.  He  wrapped  himself  around  the  frame  of  the  Bor- 
derer like  a  deadly  boa-constrictor,  tightening  the  gr^sp  of 
his  crooked  arms  and  legs,  and  striving,  it  seemed,  to  mish 
the  breastbone  of  his  adversary. 

Thus  locked  in  a  deadly  embrace,  the  enemies  made  gi- 
gantic efforts  to  terminate  the  stniggle.  The  Half-breed 
had  no  arms — having  discharged  his  pistols,  and  dropped 
bis  knife  and  tomahawk  in.  the  melee.  The  Borderer  had  a 
knife,  but  it  was  tangled  in  his  belt,  and  he  could  not  draw 
it,  until  his  foe  was  prostrate  beneath  him,  and  his  own 
arms  free  from  the  paralyzing  pressure.  They  staggered 
from  side  to  side,  stumbling  and  nearly  falling  over  the 
dead  bodie^is;  writhing  like  wild  animals,  and  uttering  hoarse 
growls;  exerting  their  great  strength  to  an  extent  almost 
supernatural  in  the  breast  to  breast  contest  for  life. 

Then  a  new  and  more  terrible  feature  was  added  to  the 
struggle.  Step  by  step  they  had  detached  themsehes  from 
the  rest  of  the  combatants,  and  now  tliey  found  thomsolvos 
rapidly  approaching  the  ledge  of  rock  which  ran  around  the 
brink  of  the  precipice.  The  Borderer's  back  was  turned  to 
it,  and  he  was  not  aware  of  his  peril  until  it  was  almost  too 
late  to  guard  against  it.  He  heard,  at  the  instant,  a  .sort  of 
hissing  growl,  and  a  sudden  and  diabolical  grin  dlf4tori.ed 
the  face  of  the  Half-breed.  Breathing  heavily,  and  gnash- 
ing lii.s  boar-like  tusks,  ho  forced  his  eneray  toward  the 
dizzy  precipice,  and  suddenly,  as  they  reached  the  very 
rcrge,  buried  his  sharp  teeth  in  the  Borderer's  tliroat 


THE  KASTEB  OF  GBSEKWAl  OOUBT. 


38d 


"Wagner  uttered  a  hoarse  cry,  and  staggered  back.  The 
dog-like  bite,  deep  into  kis  throat,  had  taken  him  unawares, 
and  nearly  paralyzed  him.  His  head  gi*ew  dizzy,  his  right 
hand  released  its  hold  upon  the  Half-breed:  clinging  Uke  a 
tdger^  to  the  Borderer's  throat,  the  mahgnant  savage  pushed 
him,  inch  by  inch,  to  the  verge. 

A  glance  behind  him  showed  the  soldier  his  awful  peril 
He  saw  the  sheer  descent  of  five  hundred  feet  beneath  him, 
the  plateau  at  its  foot,  a  bed  of  shattered  rocks:  and  upon 
that  plateau,  his  mangled  corpse  would  be  lying  in  three 
seconds,  unless  he  could  disengage  the  hideous  monster's 
teeth  from  his  throat. 

His  brain  reeled.  A  shudder  passed  through  his  frame — 
and  a  sort  of  chill  invaded  his  breast.  The  heart  of*'  this 
man,  who  had  braved  a  thousand  perils,  who  had  led  his 
men  into  the  bloodiest  gulfs  of  battle,  who  had  set  his  Ufe, 
a  hundred  times,  upon  the  hazard  of  the  die,  without  giving 
so  much  as  a  thought  to  the  event — ^the  heart  of  this  stal- 
wart soldier,  who  had  never  felt  fear  in  the  midst  of  any 
danger,  now  recoiled  and  died  within  him  at  this  horrible 
thought — at  the  idea  of  death  in  a  shape  so  hideous  and 
revolting. 

He  summoned  all  his  remaining  strength,  and  made  a 
final  effort  to  hurl  from  him  the  monster,  whose  fangs  were 
buried  in  his  bleeding  throat.  The  effort  was  vain.  The 
jagged  teeth  clung  closer  still — their  gi*ip  was  firmer,  and 
they  gnawed  at  the  quiveiing  flesh  vdth  hound-like  ferocity. 
The  Borderer  uttered  a  stifled  cry,  and  let  fail  his  other 
arm,  w^ith  which  he  had  endeavored  to  repel  his  enemy. 
The  act  preserved  him.  The  Half-breed  had  forced  his 
opponent  to  the  very  brink,  and  was  about  to  hurl  him 
over,  when  he  felt  a  blade,  keen  and  mortal  in  its  stroke, 
enter  his  breast*  The  Borderer's  hand  had  fallen  upon  the 
knife  in  his  belt — he  had  drawn  it  and  struck.  The  mon- 
ster's hold  relaxed,  the  teeth  clutched  at  his  enemy's  throat 


884 


FAIBFAX;  OB, 


Captain  Wagner  had  just  strength  enongh  to  reooTM 
himself.  His  body  oscillated,  as  it  were,  upon  the  brink; 
and  he  staggered  back,  as  the  hideous  form  of  the  Half^ 
breed  disappeared  like  a  mass  hurled  from  some  war-like 
engine  in  the  yawning  chasm,  where  it  was  dashed  to  pieces 
upon  the  rocks. 

As  the  Borderer  turned  from  the  terrible  contest,  wiping 
his  streaming  brows,  and  breathing  heavily,  he  saw  the  In- 
dians give  way.  Then,  all  at  once,  with  loud  shouts  and 
the  discharge  of  pistols  and  carbines,  the  pai'ty,  headed  by 
Lord  Fairfax,  bore  down  upon  them,  and  completed  the 
rout: — the  remnant  of  the  band  disappeared  in  the  foresti 
with  howls  of  hatred  and  despair. 

At  the  same  moment  the  sun  rose  above  the  eastera 
Enountain,  and  poured  his  tranquil  light  upcn  the  speotodd 
sf  Uood  and  dastk 


TBM  M18TEE  OF  GBEENWAT  COUBX 


Lxxm. 

THE  TOiniG  DIDIAir. 

T  the  month  of  the  cleft  in  the  rock,  where  th# 
women  had  coiicenled  themse hes,  Cannie  holds 
upon  her  breast  the  head  of  Lightfoot,  who  ia 
dying. 

The  young  chief  exhibits  no  evidences  of  suffering — no 
tear  of  lii«  impending  fate.  His  countenance  is  calm  and 
tmtroubled;  his  eyes  are  SUpaI  with  a  serene,  happy  light; 
the  courage  of  his  race  and  his  new-found  faith,  have  come 
to  nerve  him  for  the  journey  through  the  vale  of  shadows. 

As  he  looks  up  into  the  face  of  the  young  girl,  who  gazes 
at  him  with  inexpressible  anguish  and  compassion,  a  faint 
smile  wanders  over  his  countenance,  and  a  sigh  escaping 
from  the  parted  lips,  seems  to  indicate  deep  happiness. 

"  The  Dove  of  the  Mountain  ia  imhurt,"  he  murmurs ; 
•  the  head  of  the  son  of  War  Eagle  rests  upon  her  heart  I 
Has  the  day  dawned,  Mountain  Dove,  and  is  the  combat 
ovei  ?    Have  the  children  of  the  Catawbas  gone  away  T* 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Cannie  with  a  sob. 

The  India53^  caught  the  almost  imperceptible  sound,  and 
said : 

"Why  do  you  cry?  Is  your  heart  sad  for  me?  Do  not 
cry  for  me— -I  am  not  unhappy — oh,  no,  not  unhappy  !" 

"  You  are  dying,  Lightfoot,"  returned  the  girl,  suppress- 
ing, by  a  violent  effort,  a  rush  of  tears. 

"Dying?  Yes,  that  is  true,  little  Dove,"  he  said;  "but  ia 
ihat  anything  ta  grieve  at?  The  world  is  very  dark  and 
sad,  and  I  go  from  it  to  another  land  where  there  is  never 
any  darkness.  You  gave  me  this  hope  and  happmess,  for 
you  taught  me  what  to  believe,  and  what  my  duty  waa 
Without  you,  I  should  never  have  been  anything  but  ao 
Indian  warrior-— I  am  dying,  bat  I  am  happy." 
17 


886 


VAIRFAX;  OIL 


"  And  for  me !  oh,  you  are  dying  for  me  !**  exclaimed  th* 

girl,  nearly  beside  herself  with  angiiish;  *  you  gave  your 
life  to  protect  me  from  that  blow.  Would  I  had  died  be- 
fore yon — in  your  place,  Lightfoot — dear,  dear  Lightfoot; 

my  heart  is  breaking  as  I  think  "  

She  stopped,  nearly  suffocated  by  emotion,  and  crying 
bitterly. 

"Do  not  weep!"  said  the  Indian,  earnestly,  with  glowing 
cheeks;  *'you  wound  me !  I  thank  the  Master  that  he  per- 
mitted the  poor  Indian  to  save  the  Httle  friend  who  gave 
him  the  great  hope  of  another  land  1  See  the  sun!  there 
he  rises  !  Before  he  rests  in  the  mountains  the  son  of  War 
Eagle  will  be  smiling  as  he  stands  in  the  pre«en^^  the 
Master  of  Life!" 

As  he  spoke,  a  slight  convulsion  passed  over  his  frame, 
and  his  eyes  began  to  grow  dreamy  and  absent.  The  girl 
saw,  through  her  tears,  mth  a  sudden  chill  at  the  heart, 
that  his  mind  had  commenced  to  wander,  as  the  spirit  does 
when  it  approaches  death* 

*'0h,  yes!"  she  exclaimed,  "you  will  stand  in  the  pres* 
ence  of  God,  and  he  wiU  smile  upon  you,  for  you  are  pure 
and  good~oh,  so  good  and  kind,  dear,  dear  Lightfoot! 
You  are  dying  because  you  protected  a  poor  child,  and  the 
Saviour  will  receive  and  bless  you  I" 

"Ah!"  murmured  the  Indian,  his  head  slightly  droop- 
ing, "  was  that  my  father's  whisper  ?  Does  War  Eagle  talk 
from  the  happy  hunting-grounds  to  his  child  ?  I  wiU  go  to 
meet  him !" 

And  the  young  chief  attempted  to  rise,  but  fell  back 
faintly. 

"  No,  no  1"  cried  the  girl  in  a  low,  frightened  tone,  and 
trembling,  "do  not  try  to  rise — lean  on  me — you  are  dy- 
ing, Lightfoot  I" 

The  words  an-ested  his  failing  attention,  and  he  looked 
up  into  her  eyes  with  a  sad  smile. 

"JJyingr  he  aaid  faintly;  "do  you  say  that  the  son  of 


TBS  HASTBK  OF  GBEENWAT  OOTTSK  887 


War  Eagle  is  dying?  Yes — ^now  I  see,  I  remember!  Ihd 
knife  !  You  are  the  Mountain  Dove,  are  you  not,  little  one? 
I  loved  you — did  I  not  try  to  save  you?  I  thought — ^bat 
that  shadow!  Why  does  it  creep  so  slowly,  slowly?  And 
the  wind !  Is  it  the  wind  or  the  voices  of  other  years  in 
the  forest  where  I  roamed  as  a  chief  of  the  Catawbas  ?  It 
is  a  brave,  great  tribe — the  son  of  War  Eagle  is  a  chief  I 
There,  the  wind  again — and  it  blows  from  the  mountain 
where  the  old  man  lives  with  the  maiden.  Is  that  a  rose  in 
your  hair,  little  Dove,  and  who  is  wandering  with  you?  A 
youth  of  the  palefaces !  He  is  a  noble-looking  boy,  but  he 
can  never  love  you  as  the  poor  Indian  loved  you.  You  are 
more  to  him  than  the  skies  and  rivers,  than  the  prairie  and 
the  forest — you  are  his  life;  without  you  he  would  die!" 

A  glow  came  to  the  face,  upon  which  the  pallor  of  death 
was  slowly  settling.  By  a  last  eJffort,  he  raised  his  drooping 
head,  with  a  parting  gleam  in  the  joyful  eyes,  and  it  fell 
back  upon  her  shoulders  with  the  face  turned  upward  to  the 
Bky. 

**It  was  not  the  wind!"  he  murmui^ed,  close  to  her  ear; 
"  it  is  my  father,  who  is  whispering  to  his  child,  and  blesses 
me  as  I  go.  Do  you  hear — *My  son  dies  well!'  Yes,  the 
son  of  War  Eagle,  the  child  of  the  Catawbas  dies  well,  since 
he  dies  for  the  little  Dove.  Farewell,  I  am  going  to  the 
Master! — the  sun,  how  it  shines  ! — how  the  Master  smiles!" 

And  the  voice  died  aw^ay.  "With  a  bright  light  on  his 
face,  the  young  chief  fell  back  into  the  arms  of  Cannie,  and 
expired  upon  her  bosom. 

At  the  distance  of  ten  paces,  and  not  far  from  the  strange 
granite  bust.  Lord  Fairfax  held,  in  the  same  manner,  up  >n 
his  breast,  the  heM  of  Falconbridge,  who  was  dying  in  lua 
arms. 

Within  five  yards  of  the  young  man  lay  the  body  of  IJ«r- 
tba  Argal— beautiful  in  death  as  in  life* 


Lxxrv. 

THB  YOUNG  CAVALIER. 

EE  young  girl  who  lias  played  so  woeful  a  pftii 
in  our  drama — who,  under  the  influence  cl 
some  Fatality,  it  would  seem,  had  wrecked  in 
their  freshest  bloom  the  hopes  and  happiness  ol 
a  noble  heart — this  child  of  error  and  unhappy  weakness, 
had  blotted  out  the  record  of  her  fault,  by  one  supreme  and 
all-embracing  act  of  courage  and  devotion. 

She  had  sacrificed  her  life  in  the  vain  attempt  to  pre- 
serve that  of  her  lover. 

It  was  at  the  moment  m^^^BB  Lord  Fairfax  was  ascending 
the  slope,  when  Captaii;;;  7  :agner  was  struggling  with  the 
Half-breed,  that  Falconbfatlge,  finding  himself  nearly  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  the  savages,  retreated,  fighting 
desperately,  toward  a  rock,,  against  which  he  designed  to 
place  his  back. 

The  tide  of  conflict  had  rolled  in  another  direction,  and 
borne  George  and  his  companions  from  his  side;  he  wa« 
thus  left  alone  to  oppose  his  enemies. 

Thus  contending  with  all  the  desperatii^n  of  a  knight  oi 
the  Middle  Agm  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  Saracens,  Fal- 
eonbridge  rt;treated,  step  by  step,  toward  the  rock  which 
we  have  mentioned — on  the  op^Dosite  side  of  which  was  the 
oleft  in  which  Miss  Argal  and  the  two  others  were  con- 
cealed. 

Oannie  and  ]\Irs.  Butterton  were  bending  over  Lightfoot, 
and  did  not  hear  the  clash  of  Falconbridge's  weapon,  as  ha 
parried  the  blows  aimed  at  hin.    But  Miss  Argal  heard  it 


MB  MASTER  OT  OREENWAY  COtTRT. 


889 


-^and  sometliing  in  her  heart  told  her  that  the  man  whom 
■he  loved  was  in  danger. 

With  the  impulsive  and  daring  girl,  to  determine  was  to 
act.  She  hastily  l^ft  the  hiding-place,  and  passing  round 
the  rock,  found  herself  in  the  midst  of  the  Indians. 

She  did  not  look  at  them.  Her  burning  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  youth,  who  contended  single-handed  against  his 
adversaries.  At  the  same  instant  she  saw  the  Indians  draw 
back,  as  by  a  concerted  movement — one  of  them,  who  was 
behind,  levelled  his  rifle  at  the  breast  of  Falconbridge — and 
fire  leaped  from  the  muzzle. 

The  ball  which  was  intended  for  the  young  man,  entered 
the  bosom  of  Miss  ArgaL  With  the  activity  of  a  tigress 
whose  young  is  threatened,  the  girl  had  bounded  forward, 
and  thrown  one  arm  round  his  neck,  protecting  his  body 
with  her  own. 

He  heard  the  dischargt> — ^the  young  girl's  wild  cry  ol 
anguish;  he  felt  her  form  weigh  heavily  upon  his  breast. 
An  awful  horror  for  a  moment  made  his  heart  ice — ^but 
then  the  blood  rushed  back  like  a  torrent  of  raging  fire. 
With  the  hoarse  cry  of  a  lion  lashed  to  fury,  he  deposited 
the  form  of  the  girl  upon  the  ground,  and  throwing  himself 
with  insane  rage  upon  the  crowd  of  savages,  plunged  his 
Bword  right  and  left  into  every  breast  which  opposed  him. 
His  mad  passion  was  so  frightful  and  deadly,  his  face  so 
terrible  in  its  menace,  that  the  bravest  of  the  savages  re- 
coiled before  him  with  superstitious  dread. 

But  the  unseen  Kuler  of  the  world  had  decreed  that  aH 
the  courage,  aU  the  strength,  all  the  immense  passion  of 
Falconbridge  should  avail  him  nothing;  his  last  hour  ap- 
proached. In  his  headlong  advance,  his  foot  slipped  in 
blood;  he  fell  upon  one  knee,  and  his  sword  striking  against 
the  rocks,  was  broken  close  to  the  hilt.  As  he  essayed  to 
rise,  one  of  the  savages  levelled  his  pistol,  and  the  ball  en- 
tered his  breast. 

With  a  last  look  toward  the  sky,  Falconbridge,  lik« 


390 


FAIBPAX;  OB, 


Lightfoot,  fell  backward,  the  blood  welling  from  tlie  woQnd^ 

and  staining  liis  wliite  ruffles  with  crimson. 

The  Indians  had  begun  to  waver  already,  as  they  saw  the 
advance  of  Lord  Fairfax ;  the  form  of  the  Half-breed  had 
disappeared  in  the  gulf  beneath  ;  as  Falconbridge  fell,  they 
hastily  retreated,  and  finally  disapj)6ared  down  the  slope 
beneath  tlie  boughs  of  the  evergreens. 

When  Lord  Fairfax  leaped  from  his  horse,  the  first  object 
which  greeted  his  gaze,  was  the  body  of  Falconbridge.  He 
•  seized  it  in  his  arms  with  a  hoarse  cry,  and  at  the  pressure 
of  the  father's  heart  to  the  son's,  the  young  man  opened  his 
eyes  and  gazed  about  him  faintly. 

"  My  son !  my  child !"  cried  the  Earl,  with  inexpressible 
anguish;  "my  boy,  speak  to  me  1  Where  are  you  wound- 
ed?   Oh  1  in  the  bosoj3C  fei?re  1" 

And  with  trembling.  hA%  rapid  hands,  the  Earl  tore  open 
the  young  man's  waistcoat  and  shirt.  Pushing  hastily  aside 
a  small  gold  locket  which  hung  from  Falconbridge's  neck 
by  a  fine  steel  chain,  he  se«.rched  for  the  wound.  He  did 
not  search  long  ;  turning  suddenly  pale,  the  Earl  seemed 
about  to  faint. 

Lnmediately  over  the  heart,  a  circular  spot  of  blood  indi- 
cated the  place  where  the  ball  had  entered. 

He  saw  that  all  was  over.  His  knowledge  of  gunshot 
wounds  told  him  this  one  was  mortal — and  turning  away 
his  head,  the  stern  old  nobleman  uttered  a  sob  which  tore 
its  way  from  his  inmost  heart,  like  a  cry  of  agony  and  des- 
pair. 

"Yes,  yes!"  said  a  panting  and  broken  voice  at  his  el- 
bow, "yes,  friend,  you  are  right;  you  are  not  deceived;  he's 
as  good  as  gone  from  this  earth !  Falconbridge  !  Falcon- 
bridge I  look  at  me  once  more,  comrade  1  It  is  Wagner  that 
ftpeaks  to  you  1" 

And  the  rude  Borderer,  who  had  hastened  with  giant 
Btrides  to  the  spot,  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  at  the 
side  of  the  young  mm,  and  inclosed  his  pale  hand  in  i 
grasp  of  iron. 


THB  MASTEB  OJT  GBBEimAT  COUBT 


891 


**Loolc  at  me,  comrade  I"  growled  the  Captain,  in  hosirm 
and  tragic  accents,  "you  see  me,  don't  you?  Come,  open 
your  eyes!  Tm  Wagner,  tlie  old  bear  that  loved  you,  and 
here's  George,  who's  got  hold  of  your  other  hand.  Don't 
be  talking,  for  your  wound  is  sure  to  bleed,  only  look  up, 
companion!  Black  day!  miserable  hourl"  groaned  the 
speaker  despairingly;  "a  bullet  has  done  for  him— all's 
oyer  with  the  boy  I" 

Ab  he  spoke,  the  young  man  slowly  opened  his  eyes,  and 
looked  round  with  a  dreamy  glance,  at  the  faces  beside 
him. 

"  Companion !"  he  muttered,  as  his  glance  fell  on  Wagnerj 
•*is  she  saved  ?" 

"There,  stop  talking!"  cried  the  soldier,  with  a  glow 
ijL  his  cheeks,  "  stop  that  talking,  I  say." 

"  Ah  !  comrade,  you  are  there,"  he  murmured,  "and  she 
— she  is — gone  1    I  remember  I" 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  \\hich  were  almost  inaudible^ 
the  cheeks  of  Falconbridge  flushed,  and  then  turned  white 
again:  a  convulsion  passed  over  his  fi*ame,  and  made  the 
hot  blood  gush  from  his  bosom.  With  a  faint  attempt  to 
rise,  he  fell  back  with  a  low  cry  into  the  arms  of  Lord  Fair- 
fax, whose  strength  seemed  about  to  desert  him. 

"Rouse!  rouse!  my  child!"  he  exclaimed  in  an  agony  of 
despair;  "do  not  die  without  looking  at  your  father— it  will 
loll  me!" 

And  the  grim  Earl  strained  the  fainting  and  languid 
form  to  his  fcxeast  so  wildly,  that  it  seemed  to  infuse  a  par- 
kion  of  his  own  life  into  Falconbtidge. 

He  slowly  opened  his  eyes.  His  glance  fell  upon  the  face 
of  George,  which  was  bathed  in  tears.  The  boy  held  hie 
irhite  cold  hand,  and  kneeling,  pressed  it  to  his  throbbing 
beari  The  wandering  eye  of  Falconbridge  arrested  itself 
M  it  fell  upon  the  agitated  countenance — his  lips  moved^ 
Kkd  he  endeavored,  vainly,  to  speak. 

**Bend  your  ear  to  his  lips,  George,"  groaned  Wagner, 
^  Wi  goiJDg,  and  kee  mi  eonmibhing  to  BflCT*" 


893 


fAnoPAZ; 


George  qalcHy  obeyed,  and  placed  his  ear  to  the  Ptomih 
of  Palconbridge. 

"I  am  dying,"  was  the  low  murmur;  "I  am  going — to 
leave  you,  George  I  I  always  loved  you — dear  companion — 
as  I  know  that  you  loved  me  I  Tou  will  do  me  a  last  favor," 
he  said,  raising  his  hand  feebly  to  the  locket  on  his  breast; 
"  see  that  I  am  buried  on  the  mountain  yonder — ^by  the  pine 
which — we  looked  at  on  that  autumn  day — and  bury  her  be- 
side me  1 — ^this  locket — it  contains  a  woman's  hair — ^her  hair 
—don't  let  them  remove  it  from  my  bosom,  George  1" 

"Oh,  no  I  I  swear  it!  I  will  protect  it  with  my  lifel" 
exdaimed  the  weeping  youth. 

"And  now,  farewell!"  murmured  Falconbridge,  a  sor- 
rowfal  smile  passing  over  his  pale  face;  "I  am  dying — ^am  1 
not?" 

"  It  won't  be  long  V'  muttered  Captain  Wagner^  his  fiery 
eyes  moistened  with  tears;  "five  minutes  I  give  him ! — mis- 
erable day !  Oh,  why  did  he  ever  come  on  the  trail!  Fal- 
conbridge !  Falconbridge !  look  here,  comrade  1  Look  ai 
Wagner,  who's  crying  like  a  baby  at  your  knees!" 

The  young  man  heard  the  appeal  of  the  Borderer,  and 
turned  his  eyes  upon  his  face. 

"  Friend  1 — ^true  and  tried  I"  he  murmured,  faintly,  "  we 
must  part  I    Eemember  me — when  I  am  gone !" 

"Bemember  you!  Until  my  grave  is  dug,  111  love  and 
think  of  you,  my  boy,  and  cherish  youl  My  heart  is  bleed- 
ing,  look  youl — ^my  poor  old  heart!" 

He  stopped,  overcome  by  emotion. 

The  face  of  Falconbridge  grew  soft  and  serene:  then  a 
•light  color  came  to  the  pale  cheeks;  and  by  a  great  effort 
he  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  Miss  Argal's  body,  and 
faintly  stretched  out  his  hands. 

"He  wants  to  have  her  by  him  when  he  goes!"  groaned 
the  Borderer;  "he s  faithful  to  the  death  1" 

And  the  soldier  rose  quickly,  and  going  to  the  spot  whert 
Am  pak,  cold  kftm  of  the  young  lady  lay,  took  it  in  hia 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREEKWAY  COURT.  393 


arms,  and  brought  it  to  the  side  of  Falconbridge.  The  face 
of  the  Borderer  was  white,  and  his  frame  shuddered,  as  he 
thus  held  close  to  his  breast  the  body  of  the  woman  whom 
he  had  seen  so  often,  smiling  and  beaTatiful  in  life.  Bat  he 
did  not  falter — ^he  deposited  the  inanimate  figure  at  the 
side  of  the  youth. 

As  the  eyes  of  the  dying  man  fell  upon  the  pale  features 
fehe  exquisite  face,  as  of  one  who  was  sleeping  tranquilly 
and  hi^ppily,  his  lip  quivered,  and  a  tremor  agitated  him, 
DEtaMng  the  blood  well,  in  a  crimson  stream,  from  the 
wound  in  his  bosom. 

"  She  is  gone  before  me  I"  he  murmured  in  a  whisper;  "  is 
the  day  about  to  wane,  companion?^ — this  darkness  I  'Til 
a  giand,  beautiful  world — with  its  flowers  and  sunshine  1 — 
but — another  land  I — see  how  it  shines  above  me  as  I  gol" 

These  words  were  his  last.  With  a  final  movement, 
which  exhausted  all  his  strength,  he  bent  toward  the  dead 
body  of  the  young  lady,  and  encircling  it  with  his  arms,  died 
with  his  head  upon  her  bosom. 


804 


rmnFAX  ;  Oft, 


CHAPTEK  LXXY. 

THE  DAUGHTES  OF  THE  CTAB8. 

••ITH  the  death  of  him  who  has  illustokted  ow 

poor  pages  more  than  all  his  co-mates,  the  ohrcmi" 
cle  might  fitly  terminate. 

Falconbridge  once  dead,  his  figure  removed,  hii 
•yes  no  longer  dwelling  upon  the  prairie,  the  mountain,  and 
the  river, — both  the  scene  and  the  actors  appear  dreary  and 
sad:  the  life  of  the  drama  Has  departed. 

But  we  linger  for  a  brief  space  before  bidding  the  reader 
larewelL  The  vortex  which  drew  into  its  bloody  depths  so 
many  forms,  did  not  spare,  in  its  final  effect,  awther  being. 

j^Tie  bodies  of  the  whites  and  savages,  who  had  been  slain, 
wete  buried;  and  the  hunters,  at  the  head  of  whom  rode 
tbe  Earl  and  Captain  WagTier,  returned  towtkxd  Greenway 
Court 

Scarcely  a  word  was  uttered  by  the  two  leaders  upon  the 
march.  They  scarcely  turned  their  heads,  for,  in  a  litter  of 
b©ughs  behind  them,  wore  borne  the  dead  bodies  of  Bertha 
Argal,  and  Falconbridge. 

Then  a  procession  of  hunters,  bearing  a  litter  upon  their 
Aoulders,  ascended  the  mountain,  and  the  young  man  and 
the  gir^  ^^re  laid  at  the  foot  of  the  great  pine  which  he  had 
looked  ftt  that  day,—  beneath  whose  shadow  be  had  wished 
to  be  buried.  The  cavalcade  returned  to  the  lowland  agaia 
— €dlent  and  Borro\vful;  all  were  thinking  of  the  youth 
maiden  who  were  sleeping  their  last  sleep. 

One  murmur,  alone,  was  mingled  with  the  hoof-strokes  ot 
&e  horsea.   The  leader  of  the  troop»  with  white«  oold  lip^ 


Then,  manj  days  afterward,  tlie  silence  of  ^Jie  moimtain 
fastness  was  broken  by  the  noise  of  a  horseman  ascending 
the  winding  road  to  the  dwelling,  which  we  have  visited 
more  than  once. 

This  horseman  is  George.  He  is  going  to  see  Cannie^ 
and  his  face  is  very  pale: — ^for  the  child  is  lying  dangerously 
BI 

The  exposure  upon  the  march  with  the  Indians  had  ag- 
gravated, terribly,  her  tendency  to  disease  of  the  lungs;  and 
soon  after  her  return,  she  had  been  seized  with  an  acute  at* 
taci.  A  physician  had  been  hastily  sent  for  fi-om  the  settle- 
ment east  of  the  Blue  Eidge;  but  after  an  examination  of 
Ihe  condition  of  the  sufferer,  he  had  shaken  his  head,  and 
turned  away  hopelessly. 

The  disease  had  invaded  the  vital  organs,  and  the  death 
of  the  child  was  only  a  question  of  time. 

She  lingered  until  the  cold,  sad  winter  had  passed  away, 
tUl  the  violets  of  spring  were  blooming  in  the  grass,  till 
the  birds  were  carolling  in  the  mild  blue  sky,  which  drooped 
like  a  canopy  above  i;he  headlands  and  rivers,  and  the 
prairie  glittering  with  a  million  flowers. 

Then  the  life  of  the  Httle  sufferer  waned  rapidly. 

George  was  ever  beside  her — controlling  the  sobs  which 
tried  to  force  their  way  from  his  lips — and  smiling  upon  •* 
her  hopefully  and  sweetly. 

She  knew  how  much  he  had  loved  her  now — she  knew 
ihai  this  love  had  increased  until  it  came  to  be  a  portion  of 
his  Ufe.  She  would  often  take  his  hand,  and  with  smiles  of 
deep  t^ndemess,  and  swimming  eyes,  thank  the  boy  for  his 
kindness  and  goodness,  through  all  the  days  since  he  had 
met  her,  and  saved  her  life. 

And  George  would  laugh  and  chide  her  for  her  sorrowful 
air — for  her  talk  about  dying,  and  seeing  her  '  4ast  violets" 
— then  his  feelings  would  overcome  him,  and  throwing 
himself  down  on  his  knees  at  her  feet  he  would  hide  his 


396 


FAIEFAX;  OR, 


face  in  the  counterpane  and  sob :  or  press  his  quivering  lip 
to  the  little  white  hand,  and  cry  like  a  child,  until  he  was 
exhausted. 

Beside  her,  day  and  night,  the  old  graw-haired  man 
watched  her  every  movement — the  color  in  her  cheeks — the 
quick,  short  breaths — the  brows  knit  at  times  with  sudden 
and  acute  pain.  His  life  seemed  absorbed  in  his  child ;  and 
as  her  strength  became  weaker  and  weaker,  his  very  heart's 
blood  seemed  to  ebb  away  with  her  own. 

Thus  the  winter  waned  away,  and  the  spring  came  gladly 
— but  it  brought  no  life  to  Cannie. 

She  had  clearly  drawn  near  to  that  mysterious  world 
which  lies  beyond  the  stars,  and  yet  only  a  step  from  every 
human  being.  Lying  serenely  on  the  little  white  couch  be- 
side the  window,  she  resembled  rather  a  pure  white  flower 
than  a  mortal  maiden — a  snow-drop,  delicate  and  fragile, 
and  transient — which  the  first  breath  of  wind  would  blow 
away. 

She  would  lie  thus  for  hours  with  the  old  man's  hand  in 
her  own,  gazing  out  on  the  wild  landscape  of  mountain  and 
gorge,  with  a  dreamy  smile — very  happy  it  seemed,  in  some 
thought,  which  came  to  her ;  wholy  willing  to  submit  to  the 
fate  to  which  now  awaited  her  at  any  instant. 

At  last  the  invisible  hand  was  stretched  out.  It  was  a 
beautiful  evening  of  May.  The  sinking  sun  threw  a  flush  of 
crimson  light  on  the  opposite  mountain — on  the  lofty  pines 
— and  far  down  on  the  gliding  waters  of  the  Shenandoah, 
the  "Daughter  of  the  Stars,"  which  murmured  and  died 
away,  as  the  soft  breeze  of  evening  came  and  went,  bearing 
up  from  the  prairie  the  delicate  odor  of  flowers. 

"The  time  has  come,  dear,  for  me  to  leave  you,"  she  said 
faintly ;  "don't  grieve  for  me,  grandpapa — I  shall  be  happy, 
and  I  will  meet  you  in  heaven." 

He  pressed  his  lips  with  sudden  agony  to  her  thin  white 
hand— but  the  low  soft  voiQ©  again  begged  him  not  to  griey^ 
for  h^y, 


THE  MASTEB  OF  aREEITWAT  OOUBT.  89? 

As  she  spoke,  she  saw  George  come  at  a  swift  gallop  ap 
the  mountain  and  her  check  flushed  gladly.  He  was  soon 
beside  her. 

"I  thought  I  never  should  see  yon  any  more,"  ^he  mniw 
mui'ed,  smiling;  "I  am  going  away  from  you,  George." 

The  young  man  sobbed  and  fell  almost  powerless  upon 
luB  knees  at  the  bedside. 

"Oh  do  not  I  do  not  speak  thus  I"  he  said;  "  you  will  live  I 
you  will  live  to  be  my  own  !  oh,  you  must  not  die  1" 

"God  has  called  me,"  she  answered;  "I  cannot  stay.  Be- 
member  me,  grandpapa,  and  George,  when  I  am  gone — ^re- 
member little  Cannie,  who  loved  you  so  1 — who — will  meet 
you  where — suffering  never  comes  1" 

She  never  spoke  again.  Bending  over  her  couch,  they 
caught  her  last  sigh. 

The  old  man  clasped  his  hands,  and  slowly  raising  his 
ey^s  to  heaven,  murmured  with  a  low,  tenible  groan: 

"God  take  the  spirit  of  my  child,  and  may  I  follow  her  I" 

George  buried  his  face  in  the  coimteipane,  and  pressing 
his  lips  wildly  to  the  pale  cold  hand,  only  moaned. 

When  he  rose  and  looked  at  her  with  streaming  eyes,  she 
was  smiling  upon  him,  even  in  death. 

Thus  she  passed  away,  Hke  a  flower,  a  leaf,  a  dream  of 
the  spring, — and  they  laid  her  as  she  had  desired  them—  by 
the  side  of  Falconbridge.  The  story  of  her  hfe  became 
known  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  region,  and  it  was  said  that 
a  young  gentleman  from  the  low  country  had  nearly  died  ol 
grief.  Then  a  song  began  to  float  about,  set  to  i  l  rintive 
music — the  production  it  may  be  of  some  native  bard,  of 
some  youth,  who  was  touched  by  the  pathetic  story,  and 
who,  personating  George,  sang  his  grief  and  despair.  He 
sang  it  in  these  simple  and  unpolished  lines,  which,  handed 
down  traditionally,  tell  of  the  sweetness  and  tenderness  il 
tbe  maiden — the  sorrow  of  her  lover: 

'*  Down  on  the  BbMMndoiii  roring^ 


8M 


fUBTAX;  oiv 


Oftimie  l>y  my  side,  dear  and  loTin^w 
Now  she  is  laughing  there  no  more 

Bright  as  a  snnbeam  on  the  monntain: 

Fair  as  the  lily  by  her  side, 
Fresh  as  the  water  in  the  fonntein. 

Wis  Cannie,  my  yoxmg  Virginia  bxid« 

Oh  1  all  the  world  is  sad  and  dreary 
Nothing  brings  me  solace  aU  the  day— 

Daytime  and  night-time  1  am  weary— 
C5annie's  forever  gone  away  I 

<«Long  time  I  loved  her;  now  a-roaming 
Wide  o'er  the  world  cold  and  poor, 
Ofttimes  T  think  I  see  her  eoming, 
Ofttimes  I  hear  her  by  the  shore  1" 

Such  were  the  homely  lines,  to  which  were  attached  thk 
chorus,  full  of  pathos; 

"  Oh  she  was  an  angel, 
Last  year  she  died, 
ToU  the  beU,  a  funeral  knell 
For  my  young  Virginia  bride !" 

The  melody  was  sad  and  plaintive — ^like  the  whisper  of 
the  wind  in  the  mountain  pines — the  sigh  of  the  autumn 
breeze  in  the  broomstraw  at  twilight; — like  the  gentle  and 
murmurous  lapse  of  the  waves,  as  they  glide  away  beneath 
drooping  boughs,  or  under  the  bending  flowers  of  th« 
meadows. 

By  the  side  of  her  cousin,  whom  she  had  loved  so  dearlj, 
near  the  grave  of  Falconbridge,  the  pure  and  noble,  thi 
child  thus  serenely  slumbered.  In  the  \ast  wild  sohtude, 
on  the  brow  of  the  great  precipice,  beneath  the  outstretched 
arms  of  the  mighty  pine,  which  bent  in  the  wind,  or  swayed 
under  the  feet  of  the  eagle,  these  children  of  nature  »lept  in 
peace. 

A  £ew  words  will  terminate  our  chronicle. 


not  XASXSB  or  obxenwax  ooms. 


399 


LXXVl 

THB  HEABT  OF  LOKD  FAIRFAX 

TNCE  th©  events  which  we  have  related,  mow 
than  thirty  years  have  passed. 

The  month  of  October,  1781,  ia  di*awing  to  ita 
close. 

In  a  house  in  Winchester,  a  man  of  about  eighty,  with 
long  gray  hair,  thickly  powdered ;  a  thin,  worn  countenance, 
bearing  the  marks  of  illness;  and  an  attenuated  figure  clad 
in  a  richly  embroidered  dressing-go^oi,  sits  in  a  large  arm- 
chair, supported  by  pillows,  extending  his  hands  from  time 
to  time  toward  a  cheerful  blaze  in  the  wide  fireplace. 

At  three  paces  from  him,  erect,  silent,  and  watchful,  standa 
an  old  servant,  with  hair  as  gray  as  his  master's,  but  a  face 
still  hale  and  ruddy  in  spite  of  his  great  age. 

"  John,"  says  the  invalid,  in  a  thin,  weak  voice. 

"  My  lord." 

And  the  old  servant  approaches  his  master. 

"  What  noise  was  that,  which  I  heard  ?  They  were  shout- 
tag  in  the  street,  I  thought  Has  any  intelligence  arrived 
from  the  army?  You  came  in  a  moment  ago,  and  must 
be  informed.    What  intelligence  ?  " 

Old  John  hesitates.  Upon  hi?  countenance  it  is  easy  to 
read  an  expression  of  acute  pain. 

"Speak!"  Lord  Fairfax  says,  in  his  weak  and  falteriiig 
Toice.  "Lord  ComwaUis  has  not  evacuated  Torktown  f 
It  is  not  possible  1" 

"  No  my  lord,"  is  the  low  reply. 

-Wh*tth«nr 


40O 


FAIEFAX  OB, 


John  hesitates  again.  His  master  turns  toward  him  witli 
querulous  energy. 

"  Am  I  to  have  a  reply,  or  are  you  dumb  ? "  he  says. 

Old  John  sighs,  and  looks  at  Lord  Fairfax  with  deep 
ftffiection  and  sympathy. 

"The  news  is  bad,  my  lord,"  he  says,  "and  I  would 
rather  not  tell  it." 

"  Bad  ?  speak !  I  am  not  a  baby  1    ComwaUis  has  not 
©Tacutated  Yorktown,  you  sav — what  then  ?" 
Worse  than  that,  my  lord." 

Lord  Fairfax  rose  suddenly  erect  in  his  chair. 

"  "Worse  ?  what  do  you  mmsk  ?" 

Old  John  groans  this  tim* 

"  I  thought  to  keep  the  news  from  you,  my  lord.  But 
you  order  me  to  speak,  and  I  obey  your  order.    My  lord, 
Comwallis  has  surrendered  his  army." 
Surrendered! " 

"¥es,  my  lord!"  groans  old  John. 

**To  George  Washington?" 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

Lord  Fairfax  sinks  back,  and  a  groan  of  inexpressible  an- 
guish tears  its  way  from  the  trembling  breast. 

"  That  boy  !  that  boy !"  he  murmurs,  "  the  child  whom  I 
brought  up!  The  EngHsh  dominion  in  North  America 
overturned  by  that  curly  pate  1" 

A  spasm  passes  over  the  features  of  the  old  earl,  as  ho 
utters  these  words.  He  totters  in  his  chair.  Suddenly  he 
extends  his  arms  toward  the  old  servant,  closes  his  eyeo^ 
and  murmurs. 

"Take  me  to  bed,  John,  it  is  time  forme  to  diel"* 

Bix  months  afterwards  he  was  dead. 


*  HIT  wovte 


m  MASTER  OF  GREENWAt  CCUB^C  4dl 


Lxxm 

THB  HEAET  OF  GEOR^B. 

MONTH  after  this  scene — that  is  to  mj,  in  No- 
vember, 1781 — a  cavalier  coming  from  the  east 
by  way  of  Ashby's  gap,  forded  the  Shenandoah, 
and  entered  the  Valley. 
He  was  a  man  of  about  fifty,  tall,  powerful,  as  straight  as 
an  arrow,  and  with  something  proud  and  imposing  in  his 
appearance  and  carriage.  His  eyes  were  clear  and  pene- 
trating, his  lips  firm,  the  poise  of  the  head  indicative  of 
command.  He  wore  the  full  dress  uniform  of  a  general  ol 
the  American  army,  and  rode  an  excellent  horse,  which  went 
along  gaily  beneath  his  powerful  rider,  through  the  Novem- 
ber  sunshine. 

Passing  to  the  left  of  the  Httle  village  of  Millwood,  the 
stranger  threw  a  glance  toward  "  Saratoga,"  the  residence 
of  General  Morgan,  which  was  seen  on  a  hill  across  the 
woods,  on  his  right;  then  he  continued  his  way,  reached 
the  town  of  White  Post,  turned  to  the  left  at  the  post,  which 
still  stood  in  the  main  street,  and  pushing  on,  reached 
Greenway  Court,  in  its  great  lawn,  backed  by  woods. 

Dismounting  in  front  of  the  deserted  mansion,  the  stran- 
ger tethered  his  horse  to  a  bough,  pushed  open  the  decayed 
door,  aiid  entered  the  house. 

All  was  silent  and  dreary.  The  rooms  were  bare  and 
Aesulate.  The  panes  of  the  windows  were  broken;  the  spi- 
ders had  woven  their  webs  everywhere;  and  the  dust  lay 
half  an  inch  d^^ep  on  the  discolored  floor. 

Tke  stranger  gazed  around  him  for  a  moment    Throw  a 


402 


gknce  toward  ih(>  stau'cawe,  as  if  he  thought  of  ascending  itj 

out  apparently  gave  up  the  design,  and  a  moment  aft.e3> 
wards  left  the  house,  going  back  to  his  horse. 

He  had  not  uttered  a  word  With  a  parting  glance  at  th« 
mansion,  he  mounted,  and  rode  in  the  directiju  of  th^ 
Mask^inutton. 

He  crossed  the  river,  and  enter^.d  the  gorge,  along  th« 
bank  of  Passage  Creek,  as  the  sun  was  declining. 

I^ifihing  on,  as  though  he  were  afi'pid  of  being  benighted, 
he  followed  the  narrow  and  winding  road  iip  the  slope  of  th<> 
mouutaiii,  and  in  half  an  hour  came  in  front  of  a  smal 
house,  witli  a  great  rock  at  its  back. 

A  moment  afterward,  he  had  dismounted,  approached 
the  house,  and  forced  an  entrance  through  the  creaking 
door. 

The  house  was  deserted.    Some  broken  fumitore  aloni 

indicated  that  it  had  once  been  occupied.  The  strangef 
looked  around  him  with  painful  earnestness,  and  then  went 
toward  a  small  apartment,  upon  one  side  of  the  main  room, 
his  heavy  heels  armed  with  huge  spurs  clashing  upon  the 
decayed  floor,  and  arousing  a  hundred  echoes. 

The  smaller  apartment  was  bare  like  the  larger,  but  the 
stranger  suddenly  stooped  and  picked  tip  an  object  from 
the  floor.  It  was  a  smaU  portion  of  a  woman's  or  a  child'a 
ruffle,  apparently — such  as  at  that  period  decorated  the  up- 
per edge  of  the  bodice  An  imperceptible  tremor  passed 
over  the  stalwart  frame  of  the  personage  as  he  gazed  at  the 
object  in  his  hand;  then  having  satisfied  his  curiosity  ap- 
parei  tly,  he  placed  it  in  his  bosom. 

Returning  to  the  front  door  of  the  mansion,  he  cast  a  final 
look  around  him,  taking  in  at  a  glance  every  feature,  every 
detaiL    All  was  ruinous,  deserted;  the  spot  had  a  melan 
eholy  air  about  it — and  the  stranger  slowly  remounted  hii 
borse,  and  left  it,  muttering: 


THE  MASTER  OF  GREENWAY  COURT. 


403 


can  scarcely  realize  that  it  is  the  samel" 
Instead  of  retui^ning  by  the  same  road,  he  directed  his 
way  along  a  devious  bridle-path  toward  a  mighty  pine 
which  raised  its  trunk  against  the  sky,  on  the  very  summit 
of  the  mountain,  at  the  point  where  it  sank  suddenly  into 
the  valley.  After  great  exertion,  his  horse  stumbling  fre- 
quently, he  reached  a  spot  beyond  which  it  seemed  impos- 
sible to  proceed.  He  solved  the  difficulty  by  dismounting 
and  advancing  on  foot.  Even  then  the  ascent  was  arduous. 
The  huge  masses  of  granite  were  piled  up  like  a  Titanic 
pyramid,  but  he  finally  surmounted  all  obstacles  and 
reached  the  foot  of  the  great  pine. 

It  grew  in  a  narrow  patch  of  soil,  encircled  by  rocks  at 
its  foot  were  three  graves,  marked  by  moss-covered  slabs 
of  marble. 

The  stranger  stopped  to  breathe  for  an  instant,  and  his 
glance  swept  the  immense  horizon  of  mountain,  valley  and 
river.  From  his  great  elevation  he  looked  down  upon  a 
vast  extent  of  country  stretched  beneath  him  like  a  map, 
and  the  view  was  sublime  in  its  wild  magnificence. 

But  the  wanderer  had  evidently  come  with  no  intention 
to  gaze  at  the  landscape.  He  dwelt  upon  it  for  a  moment 
only — then  his  glance  was  directed  toward  the  grave-stones. 

He  stooped  down,  and  pushing  aside  the  moss,  read  the 
inscription  upon  the  largest  of  the  three. 

The  inscription  was  as  follows : 

'^Beneath  this  ftone  lies 

Edmun-d  Viscoukt  Fairfax,  only  fon  of  Thomas 
Lord  Fairfax,  of  Denton,  England 
God  rest  him^ 

The  stranger  gazed  long  and  sorrowfully  upon  the  words, 
recalling  plainly  some  scenes  of  the  past  which  the  name  on 
the  stone  suggested.  His  head  drooped,  and  a  deep  sigh 
issued  from  his  lips  as  he  murmured: 


404 


PAIEFAX;  OR, 


''There  lies  the  noblest  heart  I  have  ever  known — a  great, 
true  sole  full  of  kindness  and  honor — a  gentleman  of  the 
antique  days  of  knighthood.  Yes,  yes,  God  rest  him !  The 
Supreme,  the  All-seing,  the  Eewarder  of  charity  and  love, 
and  faith — has  He  not  received  to  his  eternal  rest  this  noble 
suflEering  soul?  Who  was  ever  like  him?  I  have  met  with 
no  other  human  being  so  great !  Falconbridge !  Falcon- 
bridge  !  your  death  was  a  glorious  one !  You  died  as  you 
had  lived — a  true  gentleman!" 

The  head  drooped  lower  as  these  almost  inaudible  words 
escaped  from  the  lips  of  the  stranger.     He  remained  for 
some  time,  gazing  at  the  stone,  his  shoulders  drooping,  his 
breast  heaving — then  drawing  a  long  breath,  he  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  one  beside  it,  which  bore  this  incription  only 
''To  the  memory  of 
Bertha  Argal, 
Beautiful  and  unhappy." 
"Yes,  yes,"  the  stranger  murmured,  "very  beautiful — very 
unhappy — poor  child  of  misfortune !" 

And  his  sad  glance  wandered  toward  the  third  tomb- 
stone. He  seemed  almost  to  dread  deciphering  it — but  set- 
ing  his  lips  close,  knelt  down  and  read  what  was  cut  upon 
the  marble. 

These  were  the  words : 

"Here  lies  the  body  of  C'akkie, 
the  daughter  of  an  Englifh 
gentleman : 
Born  in  England,  May  the  10th,  17  , 
Died  in  Virginia,  May  the  9th,  1749. 
^And  he  took  them  up.in  his  arms^  put  his  hands  upon  theniy 

and  blessed  them,' 
The  stranger  riveted  his  eyes  uponthis  inscription  with 
an  expression  of  such  anguish  that  it  was  plain  the  stone 
covered  a  great  sorrow.    His  broad  breast  was  shaken,  his 


THE  MASTER  OP  GREEKWAY  COURT. 


405 


near,  penetrating  eyes  slowly  filled  with  tears,  and  liis 
cheeks  flushed  with  passionate  emotion. 

Mastered  by  a  sudden  impulse,  he  took  from  his  pocket 
a'pencil,  and  after  the  words: 

"Here  lies  the  body  of  Cakkie  ..." 
wrote,  in  addition: 

.  .  ."And  the  heart  of  George," 
Born  in  Weftmoreland,  Virginia, 
February  22d,  1733: 
Died  the  fame  day  and  hour, 
May  9th,  1749. 

As  the  stranger  finished  the  addition  to  the  inscription 
two  tears  roUed'down  his  cheeks,  and  fell  upon  the  stone. 
Burying  his  face  in  the  long  grass  growing  upon  the  grave 
he  sobbed,  rather  than  said,  in  a  hoarse  and  broken  voice : 

"Farewell  youth!  farewell  happiness!  farewell  dream  of 
my  boyhood !  The  earth  is  dreary  since  you  went  away. 
Farewell  until  we  meet  again!" 


^    THE  EKD. 


THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE 

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THE  MARRIAGE  OF  MRS.  MERLIN 

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thoroughly  hve  story,  with  plenty  of  local  color  well  laid  on. 
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HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

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WHERE  THE  RED  VOLLEYS  POURED.   A  Romance 
of  the  Civil  War 

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a 


CHIP  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

By  B.  M.  Bower.  From  the  opening  chapter  to  its  last  page  an 

eminent  critic  pronoimces  it  as  equal  if  not  better  than  the 
*  Virginian/ The  name  of  B.  M.  Bower  will  stand  for 
something  readable  in  the  estimation  of  every  man  and  almost 
every  woman  who  reads  this  story  of  Montana  ranch  and  its 
dwellers.    Illustrated,  12mo,  cloth  bound,  $1.25. 

THE  RANGE  DWELLERS.    A  Thrilling  Western  Story 

By  B.  M.  Bower,  author  of  ''Chip  of  the  Flying  U.''  It  ia  a 
thoroughly  live  story,  with  plenty  of  local  color  well  laid  on. 
Its  people  have  marked  characteristics,  its  scenes  change 
rapidly,  it  possesses  breeziness  and  a  wealth  of  wholesome  love, 
and  its  conclusion  is  satisfying.  12mo,  cloth  bound,  illus- 
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HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

By  B.  M.  Bower,  author  of  ''Chip  of  the  Flying  U,"  "The  Range 
Dwellers,"  etc.  A  breezy,  western  ranch  story.  It  sparkles 
in  reproducing  the  atmosphere  of  the  West.  Strong  heart 
interest  and  a  beautifully  pictured  love  story  make  it  a  most 
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THE  LURE  OF  THE  DIM  TRAILS 

By  B.  M.  Bower,  author  of  "Chip  of  the  Flying  U,"  "Her  Prairie 
Knight,"  "The  Range  Dwellers,''  etc.  A  hving,  breathing 
story  of  the  West,  out  beyond  the  Mississippi,  where  the  trails 
of  men  are  dim  and  far  apart.  This  is  the  best  story  that  the 
author  of  "Chip  of  the  Flying  U  "  has  written,  and  the  three 
full-page  three-color  drawings,  and  over  thirty  pen  and  ink  mar- 
ginal pictures  by  Charles  M.  Russell  (the  cowboy  artist),  with 
which  the  book  is  embellished,  make  it  a  handsome  book. 
12mo,  cloth  bound,  decorative  cover,  $1.50. 

WHERE  THE  RED  VOLLEYS  POURED.   A  Romance 
of  the  Civil  War 

By  Charles  W.  Dahlinger.  The  patriotism,  chivalry,  and  romance 
of  the  most  eventful  period  in  American  history,  vividly 
presented  in  the  character  and  experiences  of  a  typical  soldier 
of  the  time — Paul  Didier,  a  German  revolutionary  exile,  who 
enlists  in  the  Union  cause.  The  story  begins  with  reminiscence 
of  the  same  nature  and  in  the  same  charming  vein  as  Carl 
Schurz's  recent  autobiography.  It  insidiously  develops  into  a 
love  romance,  which  is  complicated  by  the  hero's  provoking 
susceptibihty  to  feminine  charms.  A  solution  is  finally  reached 
amid  the  thunders  of  Gettysburg,  a  battle  which  the  authof 
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9 


TRAFFIC.   The  Story  of  a  Faithful  Woman 

By  E.  Temple  Thurston,  author  of  ''The  Apple  of  Eden/'  Do 
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THE  STORY  OF  PAUL  JONES 

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TONIO,  SON  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

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THE  LINCOLN  STORY  BOOK 

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WHAT'S  IN  A  DREAM.   A  Scientific  and  Practical 
Interpretation  of  Dreams 

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4 


KATHERINE'S  SHEAVES 

By  Mrs.  George  Sheldon  Downs.  The  author  tells  in  a  motst 
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STEP  BY  STEP 

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THE  GOLD  WORSHIPERS 

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IKEY'S  LETTERS  TO  HIS  FATHER 

By  the  author  of  "  John  Henry,"  etc.   A  clever  eompilfttioti  ©f 

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Wagon 

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